EtSON  PAG1 


P  I  3  3 


JOHN  MARVEL 
ASSISTANT 


BY 

THOMAS    NELSON    PAGE 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BT 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

Published  October,  1909 


TO 

THOSE   LOVED   ONES 

WHOSE   NEVER  FAILING   SYMPATHY  HAS 
LED  ME   ALL  THESE   YEARS 


247976 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  MY  FIRST  FAILURE       .       .       .      „  /      l 

II.  THE  JEW  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN  .       .  5 

III.  THE  FIGHT      .     ..;.      ^  .^      .      -  16 

IV.  DELILAH    .       .    ,.>,,,•  >    *•      •       •  2G 
V.  THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE  .       .  36 

VI-  THE  METEOR  .     ,  ^      i      >       .       .  44 

VII.  THE  HEGIRA    .      .  r  ;      ;  '   .    ,  .  55 

VIII.  PADAN-ARAM    .       ;       ;f      ^      .    ,%  67 

IX.  I  PITCH  MY  TENT        4       ,;       .       t  84 

X.  A  NEW  GIRL  .       ; .    ,  j      ,     ..     ;.  103 

XL  ELEANOR  LEIGH      ;•    : :       .       .       •  114 

XII.  JOHN  MARVEL        .    >•  t>  .  ? ':'  ,;J7J  138 

XIII.  MR.  LEIGH      ;       ..      i    .   ;/     «.      C  147 

XIV.  Miss  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK   .       ...  154 
XV.  THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS        .       .  172 

XVI.  THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM       ,>'..-,  186 

XVII.  THE  GULF       ......  198 

XVIII.  THE  DRUMMER       .       .       .       .       •  215 

XIX.  RE-ENTER  PECK     V      ....  227 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

XX.  MY  FIRST  CLIENT  .       .       .  .  .245 

XXI.  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  Dix  .  .  259 

XXII.  THE  PREACHER       .       .       .  .  .275 

XXIII.  MRS.  ARGAND  .       .       .       .  .  .286 

XXIV.  WOLFFERT'S  MISSION    ?.       .  .  .  305 
XXV.  FATE  LEADS     .       .       .       .  .  .  319 

XXVI.  COLL  MCSHEEN'S  METHODS  .  .  339 

XXVII.  THE  SHADOW  ..       .     '.  .  .  354 

XXVIII.  THE  WALKING  DELEGATE    V  .' ' " .  361 

XXIX.  MY  CONFESSION     ;     " .  ! '  .'  .'  .  381 

XXX.  SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST  .  398 

XXXI.  JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID   .       .  .  .  416 

XXXII.  DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS  .       .       .  .  .  430 

XXXIII.  THE  PEACE-MAKER        .   f'"<:."  .  '  .  453 

XXXIV.  THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE    .       .  .  .  465 

XXXV.  MR.    LEIGH    HAS    A    PROPOSAL  OF 

MARRIAGE  MADE  HIM  .  .  .  493 

XXXVI.  THE  RIOT  AND  ITS  VICTIM  .  .  .  507 

XXXVII.  WOLFFERT'S  NEIGHBORS      -V  .  .  517 

XXXVIII.  WOLFFERT'S  PHILOSOPHY      .  .  ' ;  527 

XXXIX.  THE  CONFLICT        .       . '    'i  ;    .  %  539 

XL.  THE  CURTAIN  .  563 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 


MY  FIRST  FAILURE 

I  shall  feel  at  liberty  to  tell  my  story  in  my  own  way; 
rambling  along  at  my  own  gait;  now  going  from  point 
to  point;  now  tearing  ahead;  now  stopping  to  rest 
or  to  ruminate,  and  even  straying  from  the  path 
whenever  I  think  a  digression  will  be  for  my  own  en 
joyment. 

I  shall  begin  with  my  college  career,  a  period  to  which 
I  look  back  now  with  a  pleasure  wholly  incommensurate 
with  what  I  achieved  in  it;  which  I  find  due  to  the 
friends  I  made  and  to  the  memories  I  garnered  there  in  a 
time  when  I  possessed  the  unprized  treasures  of  youth: 
spirits,  hope,  and  abounding  conceit.  As  these  memo* 
ries,  with  the  courage  (to  use  a  mild  term)  that  a  college 
background  gives,  are  about  all  that  I  got  out  of  my 
life  there,  I  shall  dwell  on  them  only  enough  to  intro* 
duce  two  or  three  friends  and  one  enemy,  who  played 
later  a  very  considerable  part  in  my  life. 

My  family  was  an  old  and  distinguished  one;  that 
is,  it  could  be  traced  back  about  two  hundred  years,  and 
several  of  my  ancestors  had  accomplished  enough  to  be 
known  in  the  history  of  the  State—a  fact  of  which  I  was 

1 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

so  proud  that  I  was  quite  satisfied  at  college  to  rest  on 
their  achievements,  and  felt  no  need  to  add  to  its  dis 
tinction  by  any  labors  of  my  own. 

We  had  formerly  been  well  off;  we  had,  indeed,  at  one 
time  prior  to  the  Revolutionary  War,  owned  large  estates 
— a  time  to  which  I  was  so  fond  of  referring  when  I  first 
went  to  college  that  one  of  my  acquaintances,  named 
Peck,  an  envious  fellow,  observed  one  day  that  I  thought 
I  had  inherited  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and  the 
glory  of  them.  My  childhood  was  spent  on  an  old 
plantation,  so  far  removed  from  anything  that  I  have 
since  known  that  it  might  almost  have  been  in  another 
planet. 

It  happened  that  I  was  the  only  child  of  my  parents 
who  survived,  the  others  having  been  carried  off  in 
early  childhood  by  a  scourge  of  scarlet  fever,  to  which 
circumstance,  as  I  look  back,  I  now  know  was  due  my 
mother's  sadness  of  expression  when  my  father  was 
not  present.  I  was  thus  subjected  to  the  perils  and 
great  misfortune  of  being  an  only  child,  among  them 
that  of  thinking  the  sun  rises  and  sets  for  his  especial 
benefit.  I  must  say  that  both  my  father  and  mother 
tried  faithfully  to  do  their  part  to  counteract  this  danger, 
and  they  not  only  believed  firmly  in,  but  acted  consist 
ently  on,  the  Solomonic  doctrine  that  to  spare  the  rod 
is  to  spoil  the  child.  My  father,  I  must  say,  was  more 
lenient,  and  I  think  gladly  evaded  the  obligation  as  in 
terpreted  by  my  mother,  declaring  that  Solomon,  like  a 
good  many  other  persons,  was  much  wiser  in  speech 
than  in  practice.  He  was  fond  of  quoting  the  custom 

2 


MY  FIRST  FAILURE 

of  the  ancient  Scythians,  who  trained  their  youth  to 
ride,  to  shoot,  and  to  speak  the  truth.  And  in  this 
last  particular  he  was  inexorable. 

Among  my  chief  intimates  as  a  small  boy  was  a  little 
darkey  named  "  Jeams."  Jeams  was  the  grandson  of 
one  of  our  old  servants — Uncle  Ralph  Woodson.  Jeams, 
who  was  a  few  years  my  senior,  was  a  sharp-witted  boy, 
as  black  as  a  piece  of  old  mahogany,  and  had  a  head  so 
hard  that  he  could  butt  a  plank  off  a  fence.  Naturally 
he  and  I  became  cronies,  and  he  picked  up  information 
on  various  subjects  so  readily  that  I  found  him  equally 
agreeable  and  useful. 

My  father  was  admirably  adapted  to  the  conditions 
that  had  created  such  a  character,  but  as  unsuited  to 
the  new  conditions  that  succeeded  the  collapse  of  the 
old  life  as  a  shorn  lamb  would  be  to  the  untempered 
wind  of  winter.  He  was  a  Whig  and  an  aristocrat  of 
the  strongest  type,  and  though  in  practice  he  was  the 
kindest  and  most  liberal  of  men,  he  always  maintained 
that  a  gentleman  was  the  choicest  fruit  of  civilization; 
a  standard,  I  may  say,  in  which  the  personal  element 
counted  with  him  far  more  than  family  connection. 
"A  king  can  make  a  nobleman,  sir,"  he  used  to  say; 
"but  it  takes  Jehovah  to  make  a  gentleman."  When 
the  war  came,  though  he  was  opposed  to  "  Locofocoism  " 
as  he  termed  it,  he  enlisted  as  a  private  as  soon  as  the 
State  seceded,  and  fought  through  the  war,  rising  to  be 
a  major  and  surrendering  at  Appomattox.  When  the 
war  closed,  he  shut  himself  up  on  his  estate,  accepting 
the  situation  without  moroseness,  and  consoling  himself 

3 


JOHN  MARVEL  ASSISTANT 

with  a  philosophy  much  more  misanthropic  in  expres 
sion  than  in  practice. 

My  father's  slender  patrimony  had  been  swept  away 
by  the  war,  but,  being  a  scholar  himself,  and  having 
a  high  idea  of  classical  learning  and  a  good  estimate  of 
my  abilities — in  which  latter  view  I  entirely  agreed  with 
him — he  managed  by  much  stinting  to  send  me  to  col 
lege  out  of  the  fragments  of  his  establishment  I 
admired  greatly  certain  principles  which  were  stamped 
in  him  as  firmly  as  a  fossil  is  embedded  in  the  solid 
rock;  but  I  fear  I  had  a  certain  contempt  for  what  ap 
peared  to  me  his  inadequacy  to  the  new  state  of  things, 
and  I  secretly  plumed  myself  on  my  superiority  to  him 
in  all  practical  affairs.  Without  the  least  appreciation 
of  the  sacrifices  he  was  making  to  send  me  to  college, 
I  was  an  idle  dog  and  plunged  into  the  amusements  of 
the  gay  set — that  set  whose  powers  begin  below  their 
foreheads— in  which  I  became  a  member  and  aspired 
to  be  a  leader. 

My  first  episode  at  college  brought  me  some  edat. 


THE   JEW  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN 

I  arrived  rather  late  and  the  term  had  already  begun, 
so  that  all  the  desirable  rooms  had  been  taken.     I  was 
told  that  I  would  either  have  to  room  out  of  college  or 
take  quarters  with  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  ^olfrert 
—like  myself,  a  freshman.    I  naturally  chose  the  latter. 
On  reaching  my  quarters,  I  found  my  new  comrade  to 
be  an  affable,  gendemanly  fellow,  and  very  nice  looking. 
Indeed,  his  broad  brow,  with  curling  brown  hair  above  it ; 
his  dark  eyes,  deep  and  luminous;  a  nose  the  least  bit 
too  large  and  inclining  to  be  aquiline;  a  well-cut  mouth 
with  mobile,  sensitive  lips,  and  a  finely  chiselled  jaw, 
gave  him  an  unusual  face,  if  not  one  of  distinction.     He 
was  evidently  bent  on  making  himself  agreeable  to  me, 
and  as  he  had  read  an  extraordinary  amount  for  a  lad 
of  his  age  and  I,  who  had  also  read  some,  was  lonely, 
we  had  passed  a  pleasant  evening  when  he  mentioned 
casually  a  fact  which  sent  my  heart  down  into  my 
boots.  "  He  was  a  Jew.     This,  then,  accounted  for  the 
ridge  of  his  well-carved  nose,  and  the  curl  of  his  soft 
brown  hair.     I  tried  to  be  as  frank  and  easy  as  I  had 
been  before,  but  it  was  a  failure.     He  saw  my  surprise 
as  I  saw  his  disappointment—  a  coolness  took  the  place 
of  the  warmtii  that  had  been  growing  up  between  us 
for  several  hours,  and  we  passed  a  stiff  evening.     He 
had  alreadv  had  one  room-mate. 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Next  day,  I  found  a  former  acquaintance  who  offered 
to  take  me  into  his  apartment,  and  that  afternoon,  hav 
ing  watched  for  my  opportunity,  I  took  advantage  of 
my  room-mate's  absence  and  moved  out,  leaving  a  short 
note  saying  that  I  had  discovered  an  old  friend  who  was 
very  desirous  that  I  should  share  his  quarters.  When  I 
next  met  Wolffert,  he  was  so  stiff,  that  although  I  felt 
sorry  for  him  and  was  ready  to  be  as  civil  as  I  might,  our 
acquaintance  thereafter  became  merely  nominal.  I  saw 
in  fact,  little  of  him  during  the  next  months,  for  he  soon 
forged  far  ahead  of  me.  There  was,  indeed,  no  one  in 
his  class  who  possessed  his  acquirements  or  his  ability. 
I  used  to  see  him  for  a  while  standing  in  his  doorway 
looking  wistfully  out  at  the  groups  of  students  gathered 
under  the  trees,  or  walking  alone,  like  Isaac  in  the  fields, 
and  until  I  formed  my  own  set,  I  would  have  gone  and 
joined  him  or  have  asked  him  to  join  us  but  for  his 
rebuff.  I  knew  that  he  was  lonely;  for  I  soon  discovered 
that  the  cold  shoulder  was  being  given  to  him  by  most  of 
the  students.  I  could  not,  however,  but  feel  that  it 
served  him  right  for  the  "airs"  he  put  on  with  me. 
That  he  made  a  brilliant  exhibition  in  his  classes  and 
was  easily  the  cleverest  man  in  the  class  did  not  affect 
our  attitude  toward  him;  perhaps,  it  only  aggravated 
the  case.  Why  should  he  be  able  to  make  easily  a 
demonstration  at  the  blackboard  that  the  cleverest  of  us 
only  bungled  through  ?  One  day,  however,  we  learned 
that  the  Jew  had  a  room-mate.  Bets  were  freely  taken 
that  he  would  not  stick,  but  he  stuck — for  it  was  John 
Marvel.  Not  that  any  of  us  knew  what  John  Marvel 

6 


THE  JEW  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN 

was ;  for  even  I,  who,  except  Wolffert,  came  to  know 
him  best,  did  not  divine  until  many  years  later  what  a 
nugget  of  unwrought  gold  that  homely,  shy,  awkward 
John  Marvel  was! 

It  appeared  that  Wolffert  had  a  harder  time  than  any 
of  us  dreamed  of. 

He  had  come  to  the  institution  against  the  advice  of 
his  father,  and  for  a  singular  reason:  he  thought  it 
the  most  liberal  institution  of  learning  in  the  country! 
Little  he  knew  of  the  narrowness  of  youth!  His  mind 
was  so  receptive  that  all  that  passed  through  it  was 
instantly  appropriated.  Like  a  plant,  he  drew  suste 
nance  from  the  atmosphere  about  him  and  transmuted 
what  was  impalpable  to  us  to  forms  of  beauty.  He 
was  even  then  a  man  of  independent  thought;  a 
dreamer  who  peopled  the  earth  with  ideals,  and  saw 
beneath  the  stony  surface  of  the  commonplace  the 
ideals  and  principles  that  were  to  reconstruct  and  resur 
rect  the  world.  An  admirer  of  the  Law  in  its  ideal 
conception,  he  reprobated,  with  the  fury  of  the  Baptist, 
the  generation  that  had  belittled  and  cramped  it  to  an 
instrument  of  torture  of  the  human  mind,  and  looked 
to  the  millenial  coming  of  universal  brotherhood  and 
freedom. 

His  father  was  a  leading  man  in  his  city;  one  who, 
by  his  native  ability  and  the  dynamic  force  that  seems 
to  be  a  characteristic  of  the  race,  had  risen  from  poverty 
to  the  position  of  chief  merchant  and  capitalist  of  the 
town  in  which  he  lived.  He  had  been  elected  mayor 
in  a  time  of  stress ;  but  his  popularity  among  the  citizens 

7 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

generally  had  cost  him,  as  I  learned  later,  something 
among  his  own  people.  The  breadth  of  his  views  had 
not  been  approved  by  them. 

The  abilities  that  in  the  father  had  taken  this  direction 
of  the  mingling  of  the  practical  and  the  theoretical  had, 
in  the  son,  taken  the  form  I  have  stated.  He  was  an 
idealist:  a  poet  and  a  dreamer. 

The  boy  from  the  first  had  discovered  powers  that 
had  given  his  father  the  keenest  delight,  not  unmingled 
with  a  little  misgiving.  As  he  grew  up  among  the  best 
class  of  boys  in  his  town,  and  became  conscious  that  he 
was  not  one  of  them,  his  inquiring  and  aspiring  mind 
began  early  to  seek  the  reasons  for  the  difference.  Why 
should  he  be  held  a  little  apart  from  them  ?  He  was  a 
Jew.  Yes,  but  why  should  a  Jew  be  held  apart? 
They  talked  about  their  families.  Why,  his  family 
could  trace  back  for  two  thousand  and  more  years  to 
princes  and  kings.  They  had  a  different  religion. 
But  he  saw  other  boys  with  different  religions  going  and 
playing  together.  They  were  Christians,  and  believed 
in  Christ,  while  the  Jew,  etc.  This  puzzled  him  till  he 
found  that  some  of  them — a  few — did  not  hold  the 
same  views  of  Christ  with  the  others.  Then  he  began 
to  study  for  himself,  boy  as  he  was,  the  history  of  Christ, 
and  out  of  it  came  questions  that  his  father  could  not 
answer  and  was  angry  that  he  should  put  to  him.  He 
went  to  a  young  Rabbi  who  told  him  that  Christ  was 
a  good  man,  but  mistaken  in  His  claims. 

So,  the  boy  drifted  a  little  apart  from  his  own  people, 
and  more  and  more  he  studied  the  questions  that  arose 

8 


THE  JEW  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN 

in  his  mind,  and  more  and  more  he  suffered;  but  more 
and  more  he  grew  strong. 

The  father,  too  proud  of  his  son's  independence  to 
coerce  him  by  an  order  which  might  have  been  a  law 
to  him,  had,  nevertheless,  thrown  him  on  his  own 
resources  and  cut  him  down  to  the  lowest  figure  on  which 
he  could  live,  confident  that  his  own  opinions  would  be 
justified  and  his  son  return  home. 

Wolffert's  first  experience  very  nearly  justified  this 
conviction.  The  fact  that  a  Jew  had  come  and  taken 
one  of  the  old  apartments  spread  through  the  college 
with  amazing  rapidity  and  created  a  sensation.  Not 
that  there  had  not  been  Jews  there  before,  for  there  had 
been  a  number  there  at  one  time  or  another.  But  they 
were  members  of  families  of  distinction,  who  had  been 
known  for  generations  as  bearing  their  part  in  all  the 
appointments  of  life,  and  had  consorted  with  other  folk 
on  an  absolute  equality;  so  that  there  was  little  or 
nothing  to  distinguish  them  as  Israelites  except  their 
name.  If  they  were  Israelites,  it  was  an  accident  and 
played  no  larger  part  in  their  views  than  if  they  had 
been  Scotch  or  French.  But  here  was  a  man  who  pro 
claimed  himself  a  Jew;  who  proposed  that  it  should 
ke  known,  and  evidently  meant  to  assert  his  rights  and 
peculiarities  on  all  occasions.  The  result  was  that  he 
was  subjected  to  a  species  of  persecution  which  only  the 
young  Anglo-Saxon,  the  most  brutal  of  all  animals, 
could  have  devised. 

As  college  filled  rapidly,  it  soon  became  necessary  to 
double  up,  that  is,  put  two  men  in  one  apartment. 

9 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

The  first  student  assigned  to  live  with  Wolffert  was 
Peck,  a  sedate  and  cool  young  man — like  myself,  from 
the  country,  and  like  myself,  very  short  of  funds.  Peck 
would  not  have  minded  rooming  with  a  Jew,  or,  for 
that  matter,  with  the  Devil,  if  he  had  thought  he  could 
get  anything  out  of  him ;  for  he  had  few  prejudices,  and 
when  it  came  to  calculation,  he  was  the  multiplication- 
table.  But  Peck  had  his  way  to  make,  and  he  coolly 
decided  that  a  Jew  was  likely  to  make  him  bear  his 
full  part  of  the  expenses — which  he  never  had  any 
mind  to  do.  So  he  looked  around,  and  within  forty- 
eight  hours  moved  to  a  place  out  of  college  where  he  got 
reduced  board  on  the  ground  of  belonging  to  some 
peculiar  set  of  religionists,  of  which  I  am  convinced  he 
had  never  heard  till  he  learned  of  the  landlady's 
idiosyncrasy. 

I  had  incurred  Peck's  lasting  enmity — though  I  did 
not  know  it  at  the  time — by  a  witticism  at  his  expense. 
We  had  never  taken  to  each  other  from  the  first,  and 
one  evening,  when  someone  was  talking  about  Wolffert, 
Peck  joined  in  and  said  that  that  institution  was  no  place 
for  any  Jew.  I  said,  "Listen  to  Peck  sniff.  Peck, 
how  did  you  get  in?"  This  raised  a  laugh.  Peck,  I 
am  sure,  had  never  read  "Martin  Chuzzlewit";  but  I  am 
equally  sure  he  read  it  afterward,  for  he  never  forgave  me. 

Then  came  my  turn  and  desertion  which  I  have 
described.  And  then,  after  that  interval  of  loneliness, 
appeared  John  Marvel. 

Wolffert,  who  was  one  of  the  most  social  men  I  ever 
knew,  was  sitting  in  his  room  meditating  on  the  strange 

10 


THE  JEW  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN 

fate  that  had  made  him  an  outcast  among  the  men  whom 
he  had  come  there  to  study  and  know.  This  was  my 
interpretation  of  his  thoughts :  he  would  probably  have 
said  he  was  thinking  of  the  strange  prejudices  of  the 
human  race — prejudices  to  which  he  had  been  in  some 
sort  a  victim  all  his  life,  as  his  race  had  been  all  through 
the  ages.  He  was  steeped  in  loneliness,  and  as,  in  the 
mellow  October  afternoon,  the  sound  of  good-fellow 
ship  floated  in  at  his  window  from  the  lawn  outside, 
be  grew  more  and  more  dejected.  One  evening  it 
culminated.  He  even  thought  of  writing  to  his  father 
that  he  would  come  home  and  go  into  his  office  and 
accept  the  position  that  meant  wealth  and  luxury  and 
power.  Just  then  there  was  a  step  outside,  and  some 
one  stopped  and  after  a  moment,  knocked  at  the  door. 
Wolffert  rose  and  opened  it  and  stood  facing  a  new 
student — a  florid,  round-faced,  round-bodied,  bow- 
legged,  blue-eyed,  awkward  lad  of  about  his  own  age. 

"Is  this  number  -  —  ?"  demanded  the  new-comer, 
peering  curiously  at  the  dingy  door  and  half  shyly 
looking  up  at  the  occupant. 

"  It  is.     Why  ?  "     Wolffert  spoke  abruptly. 

"Well,  I  have  been  assigned  to  this  apartment  by  the 
Proctor.  I  am  a  new  student  and  have  just  come. 
My  name  is  Marvel— John  Marvel."  Wolffert  put  his 
arms  across  the  doorway  and  stood  in  the  middle  of  it. 

"Well,  I  want  to  tell  you  before  you  come  in  that  I 
am  a  Jew.  You  are  welcome  not  to  come,  but  if  you 
come  I  want  you  to  stay."  Perhaps  the  other's  aston 
ishment  contained  a  query,  for  he  went  on  hotly: 

11 


JOHN  MARVEL;  ASSISTANT 

"  I  have  had  two  men  come  here  already  and  both  of 
them  left  after  one  day.  The  first  said  he  got  cheaper 
board,  which  was  a  legitimate  excuse — if  true — the  other 
said  he  had  found  an  old  friend  who  wanted  him.  I 
am  convinced  that  he  lied  and  that  the  only  reason  he 
left  was  that  I  am  a  Jew.  And  now  you  can  come  in  or 
not,  as  you  please,  but  if  you  come  you  must  stay." 
He  was  looking  down  in  John  Marvel's  eyes  with  a 
gaze  that  had  the  concentrated  bitterness  of  generations 
in  it,  and  the  latter  met  it  with  a  gravity  that  deepened 
into  pity. 

"I  will  come  in  and  I  will  stay;  Jesus  was  a  Jew," 
said  the  man  on  the  lower  step. 

"I  do  not  know  him,"  said  the  other  bitterly. 

"But  you  will.     I  know  Him." 

Wolffert's  arms  fell  and  John  Marvel  entered  and 
stayed. 

That  evening  the  two  men  went  to  the  supper  hall 
together.  Their  table  was  near  mine  and  they  were  the 
observed  of  all  observers.  The  one  curious  thing  was 
that  John  Marvel  was  studying  for  the  ministry.  It 
lent  zest  to  the  jokes  that  were  made  on  this  incongruous 
pairing,  and  jests,  more  or  less  insipid,  were  made  on 
the  Law  and  the  Prophets;  the  lying  down  together  of 
the  lion  and  the  lamb,  etc. 

It  was  a  curious  mating — the  light-haired,  moon 
faced,  slow-witted  Saxon,  and  the  dark,  keen  Jew  with 
his  intellectual  face  and  his  deep-burning  eyes  in  which 
glowed  the  misery  and  mystery  of  the  ages. 

John  Marvel  soon  became  well  known;  for  he  was 
12 


THE  JEW  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN 

one  of  the  slowest  men  in  the  college.  With  his  amus 
ing  awkwardness,  he  would  have  become  a  butt  except 
for  his  imperturbable  good-humor.  As  it  was,  he  was 
for  a  time  a  sort  of  object  of  ridicule  to  many  of  us — 
myself  among  the  number — and  we  had  many  laughs 
at  him.  He  would  disappear  on  Saturday  night  and 
not  turn  up  again  till  Monday  morning,  dusty  and  di 
sheveled.  And  many  jests  were  made  at  his  expense. 
One  said  that  Marvel  was  practising  preaching  in  the 
mountains  with  a  view  to  becoming  a  second  Demos 
thenes;  another  suggested  that,  if  so,  the  mountains 
would  probably  get  up  and  run  into  the  sea. 

When,  however,  it  was  discovered  later  that  he  had  a 
Sunday-school  in  the  mountains,  and  walked  twelve 
miles  out  and  twelve  miles  back,  most  of  the  gibers,  ex 
cept  the  inveterate  humorists  like  myself,  were  silent. 

This  fact  came  out  by  chance.  Marvel  disappeared 
from  college  one  day  and  remained  away  for  two  or 
three  weeks.  Wolffert  either  could  not  or  would  not 
give  any  account  of  him.  When  Marvel  returned,  he 
looked  worn  and  ill,  as  if  he  had  been  starving,  and 
almost  immediately  he  was  taken  ill  and  went  to  the 
infirmary  with  a  case  of  fever.  Here  he  was  so  ill  that 
the  doctors  quarantined  him  and  no  one  saw  him  except 
the  nurse — old  Mrs.  Denny,  a  wrinkled  and  bald- 
headed,  old,  fat  woman,  something  between  a  lightwood 
knot  and  an  angel — and  Wolffert. 

Wolffert  moved  down  and  took  up  his  quarters  in  the 
infirmary — it  was  suggested,  with  a  view  to  converting 
Marvel  to  Judaism— and  here  he  stayed.  The  nursing 

13 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

never  appeared  to  make  any  difference  in  Wolffert's 
preparation  for  his  classes;  for  when  he  came  back  he 
still  stood  easily  first.  But  poor  Marvel  never  caught 
up  again,  and  was  even  more  hopelessly  lost  in  the  be 
fogged  region  at  the  bottom  of  the  class  than  ever 
before.  When  called  on  to  recite,  his  brow  would 
pucker  and  he  would  perspire  and  stammer  until  the 
class  would  be  in  ill -suppressed  convulsions,  all  the 
more  enjoyable  because  of  Leo  Wolffert's  agonizing 
over  his  wretchedness.  Then  Marvel,  excused  by  the 
professor,  would  sit  down  and  mop  his  brow  and  beam 
quite  as  if  he  had  made  a  wonderful  performance  (which 
indeed,  he  had),  while  Wolff ert's  thin  face  would  grow 
whiter,  his  nostrils  quiver,  and  his  deep  eyes  burn  like 
coals. 

One  day  a  spare,  rusty  man  with  a  frowzy  beard,  and 
a  lank,  stooping  woman  strolled  into  the  college  grounds, 
and  after  wandering  around  aimlessly  for  a  time,  asked 
for  Mr.  Marvel.  Each  of  them  carried  a  basket. 
They  were  directed  to  his  room  and  remained  with  him 
some  time,  and  when  they  left,  he  walked  some  distance 
with  them. 

It  was  at  first  rumored  and  then  generally  reported 
that  they  were  Marvel's  father  and  mother.  It  became 
known  later  that  they  were  a  couple  of  poor  mountain 
eers  named  Shiflett,  whose  child  John  Marvel  had 
nursed  when  it  had  the  fever.  They  had  just  learned 
of  his  illness  and  had  come  down  to  bring  him  some 
chickens  and  other  things  which  they  thought  he  might 
need. 

14 


THE  JEW  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN 

This  incident,  with  the  knowledge  of  Marvel's  de 
votion,  made  some  impression  on  us,  and  gained 
for  Marvel,  and  incidentally  for  Wolffert,  some  sort 
of  respect. 


m 

THE  FIGHT 

All  this  time  I  was  about  as  far  aloof  from  Marvel 
and  Wolffert  as  I  was  from  any  one  in  the  college. 

I  rather  liked  Marvel,  partly  because  he  appeared 
to  like  me  and  I  helped  him  in  his  Latin,  and  partly 
because  Peck  sniffed  at  him,  and  Peck  I  cordially  dis 
liked  for  his  cold-blooded  selfishness  and  his  plodding 
way. 

I  was  strong  and  active  and  fairly  good-looking, 
though  by  no  means  so  handsome  as  I  fancied  myself 
when  I  passed  the  large  plate-glass  windows  in  the 
stores;  I  was  conceited,  but  not  arrogant  except  to  my 
family  and  those  I  esteemed  my  inferiors;  was  a  good 
poker-player;  was  open-handed  enough,  for  it  cost  me 
nothing;  and  was  inclined  to  be  kind  by  nature. 

I  had,  moreover,  several  accomplishments  which  led 
to  a  certain  measure  of  popularity.  I  had  a  retentive 
memory,  and  could  get  up  a  recitation  with  little  trouble; 
though  1  forgot  about  as  quickly  as  I  learned.  I  could 
pick  a  little  on  a  banjo;  could  spout  fluently  what 
sounded  like  a  good  speech  if  one  did  not  listen  to  me; 
could  write,  what  someone  has  said,  looked  at  a  distance 
like  poetry  and,  thanks  to  my  father,  could  both  fence 
and  read  Latin.  These  accomplishments  served  to 
bring  me  into  the  best  set  in  college  and,  in  time,  to 

Jo 


THE  FIGHT 

undo  me.  For  there  is  nothing  more  dangerous  to  a 
young  man  than  an  exceptional  social  accomplishment. 
A  tenor  voice  is  almost  as  perilous  as  a  taste  for  drink; 
and  to  play  the  guitar,  about  as  seductive  as  to  play 
poker. 

I  was  soon  to  know  Wolff ert  better.  He  and  Marvel, 
after  their  work  became  known,  had  been  admitted 
rather  more  within  the  circle,  though  they  were  still  kept 
near  the  perimeter.  And  thus,  as  the  spring  came  on, 
when  we  all  assembled  on  pleasant  afternoons  under 
the  big  trees  that  shaded  the  green  slopes  above  the 
athletic  field,  even  Wolffert  and  Marvel  were  apt  to 
join  us.  I  would  long  ago  have  made  friends  with 
Wolffert,  as  some  others  had  done  since  he  distinguished 
himself;  for  I  had  been  ashamed  of  my  poltroonery  in 
leaving  him;  but,  though  he  was  affable  enough  with 
others,  he  always  treated  me  with  such  marked  reserve 
that  I  had  finally  abandoned  my  charitable  effort  to  be 
on  easy  terms  with  him. 

One  spring  afternoon  we  were  all  loafing  under  the 
trees,  many  of  us  stretched  out  on  the  grass.  I  had 
just  saved  a  game  of  baseball  by  driving  a  ball  that 
brought  in  three  men  from  the  bases,  and  I  was  sur 
rounded  by  quite  a  group.  Marvel,  who  was  as  strong 
as  an  ox,  was  second-baseman  on  the  other  nine  and 
had  missed  the  ball  as  the  center-fielder  threw  it  wildly. 
Something  was  said — I  do  not  recall  what — and  I 
raised  a  laugh  at  Marvel's  expense,  in  which  he  joined 
heartily.  Then  a  discussion  began  on  the  merits  in 
which  Wolffert  joined.  I  started  it,  but  as  Wolffert 

17 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

appeared  excited,  I  drew  out  and  left  it  to  my 
friends. 

Presently,  at  something  Wolffert  said,  I  turned  to  a 
friend,  Sam  Pleasants,  and  said  in  a  half-aside,  with  a 
sneer:  "He  did  not  see  it;  Sam,  you — "  I  nodded  my 
head,  meaning,  "You  explain  it." 

Suddenly,  Wolffert  rose  to  his  feet  and,  without  a 
word  of  warning,  poured  out  on  me  such  a  torrent  of 
abuse  as  I  never  heard  before  or  since.  His  least  epithet 
was  a  deadly  insult.  It  was  out  of  a  clear  sky,  and  for 
a  moment  my  breath  was  quite  taken  away.  I  sprang 
to  my  feet  and,  with  a  roar  of  rage,  made  a  rush  for 
him.  But  he  was  ready,  and  with  a  step  to  one  side, 
planted  a  straight  blow  on  my  jaw  that,  catching  me 
unprepared,  sent  me  full  length  on  my  back.  I  was 
up  in  a  second  and  made  another  rush  for  him,  only  to 
be  caught  in  the  same  way  and  sent  down  again. 

When  I  rose  the  second  time,  I  was  cooler.  I  knew 
then  that  I  was  in  for  it.  Those  blows  were  a  boxer's. 
They  came  straight  from  the  shoulder  and  were  as 
quick  as  lightning,  with  every  ounce  of  the  giver's 
weight  behind  them.  By  this  time,  however,  the  crowd 
had  interfered.  This  was  no  place  for  a  fight,  they 
said.  The  professors  would  come  on  us.  Several 
were  holding  me  and  as  many  more  had  Wolffert; 
among  them,  John  Marvel,  who  could  have  lifted  him 
in  his  strong  arms  and  held  him  as  a  baby.  Marvel  was 
pleading  with  him  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Wolffert  was 
cool  enough  now,  but  he  took  no  heed  of  his  friend's 
entreaties.  Standing  quite  still,  with  the  blaze  in  his 

18 


THE  FIGHT 

eyes  all  the  more  vivid  because  of  the  pallor  of  his  face, 
he  was  looking  over  his  friend's  head  and  was  cursing 
me  with  all  the  eloquence  of  a  rich  vocabulary.  So  far 
as  he  was  concerned,  there  might  not  have  been  another 
man  but  myself  within  a  mile. 

In  a  moment  an  agreement  was  made  by  which  we 
were  to  adjourn  to  a  retired  spot  and  fight  it  out. 
Something  that  he  said  led  someone  to  suggest  that 
we  settle  it  with  pistols.  It  was  Peck's  voice.  Wolffert 
sprang  at  it.  "I  will,  if  I  can  get  any  gentleman  to 
represent  me,"  he  said  with  a  bitter  sneer,  casting  his 
flashing,  scornful  eyes  around  on  the  crowd.  "I  have 
only  one  friend  and  I  will  not  ask  him  to  do  it." 

"I  will  represent  you,"  said  Peck,  who  had  his  own 
reasons  for  the  offer. 

"  All  right.     When  and  where  ?  "  said  I. 

"Now,  and  in  the  railway-cut  beyond  the  wood," 
said  Wolffert. 

We  retired  to  two  rooms  in  a  neighboring  dormitory 
to  arrange  matters.  Peck  and  another  volunteer  repre 
sented  Wolffert,  and  Sam  Pleasants  and  Harry  Houston 
were  my  seconds.  I  had  expected  that  some  attempt 
at  reconciliation  would  be  made;  but  there  was  no 
suggestion  of  it.  I  never  saw  such  cold-blooded  young 
ruffians  as  all  our  seconds  were,  and  when  Peck  came 
to  close  the  final  cartel  he  had  an  air  between  that  of  a 
butcher  and  an  undertaker.  He  looked  at  me  exactly 
as  a  butcher  does  at  a  fatted  calf.  He  positively  licked 
his  chops.  I  did  not  want  to  shoot  Wolffert,  but  I 
could  cheerfully  have  murdered  Peck.  While,  however, 

19 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

the  arrangements  were  being  made  by  our  friends,  I 
had  had  a  chance  for  some  reflection  and  I  had  used 
it.  I  knew  that  Wolffert  did  not  like  me.  He  had  no 
reason  to  do  so,  for  I  had  not  only  left  him,  but  had  been 
cold  and  distant  with  him.  Still,  I  had  always  treated 
him  civilly,  and  had  spoken  of  him  respectfully,  which 
was  more  than  Peck  had  always  done.  Yet,  here, 
without  the  least  provocation,  he  had  insulted  me 
grossly.  I  knew  there  must  be  some  misunderstanding, 
and  I  determined  on  my  "own  hook"  to  find  out  what 
it  was.  Fortune  favored  me.  Just  then  Wolffert 
opened  the  door.  He  had  gone  to  his  own  room  for  a 
few  moments  and,  on  his  return,  mistook  the  number 
and  opened  the  wrong  door.  Seeing  his  error,  he  drew 
back  with  an  apology,  and  was  just  closing  the  door 
when  I  called  him. 

"Wolffert!  Come  in  here  a  moment.  I  want  to 
speak  to  you  alone." 

He  re-entered  and  closed  the  door;  standing  stiff 
and  silent. 

"Wolffert,  there  has  been  some  mistake,  and  I  want 
to  know  what  it  is."  He  made  not  the  least  sign  that 
he  heard,  except  a  flash,  deep  in  his  eyes,  like  a  streak 
of  lightning  in  a  far-off  cloud. 

"I  am  ready  to  fight  you  in  any  way  you  wish,"  I 
went  on.  "But  I  want  to  know  what  the  trouble  is. 
Why  did  you  insult  me  out  of  a  clear  sky  ?  What  had 
I  done?" 

"Everything." 

"What!    Specify.    What  was  it?" 
20 


THE  FIGHT 

"You  have  made  my  life  Hell — all  of  you!"  His 
face  worked,  and  he  made  a  wild  sweep  with  his  arm 
and  brought  it  back  to  his  side  with  clenched  fist. 

"But  I?" 

"You  were  the  head.  You  have  all  done  it.  You 
have  treated  me  as  an  outcast — a  Jew!  You  have 
given  me  credit  for  nothing,  because  I  was  a  Jew.  I 
could  have  stood  the  personal  contempt  and  insult,  and 
I  have  tried  to  stand  it;  but  I  will  put  up  with  it  no 
longer.  It  is  appointed  once  for  a  man  to  die,  and  I 
can  die  in  no  better  cause  than  for  my  people." 

He  was  gasping  with  suppressed  emotion,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  gasp  also — but  for  a  different  reason.  He 
went  on: 

"You  thought  I  was  a  coward  because  I  was  a  Jew, 
and  because  I  wanted  peace — treated  me  as  a  poltroon 
because  I  was  a  Jew.  And  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
stop  it.  So  this  evening  my  chance  came.  That  is  all." 

"But  what  have  I  done?" 

"Nothing  more  than  you  have  always  done;  treated 
the  Jew  with  contempt.  But  they  were  all  there,  and  I 
chose  you  as  the  leader  when  you  said  that  about  the 
Jew." 

"I  said  nothing  about  a  Jew.  Here,  wait!  Did  you 
think  I  insulted  you  as  a  Jew  this  afternoon  ? "  I  had 
risen  and  walked  over  in  front  of  him. 

"Yes."    He  bowed. 

"Well,  I  did  not." 

"You  did — you  said  to  Sam  Pleasants  that  I  was  a 
'damned  Jew/" 

21 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"What!  I  never  said  a  word  like  it— yes,  I  did—I 
said  to  Sam  Pleasants,  that  you  did  not  see  the  play,  and 
said,  'Sam,  you—'  meaning,  you,  tell  him/  Wait.  Let 
me  think  a  moment.  Wolffert,  I  owe  you  an  apology, 
and  will  make  it.  I  know  there  are  some  who  will 
think  I  do  it  because  I  am  afraid  to  fight.  But  I  do  not 
care.  I  am  not,  and  I  will  fight  Peck  if  he  says  so.  If 
you  will  come  with  me,  I  will  make  you  a  public  apology, 
and  then  if  you  want  to  fight  still,  I  will  meet  you." 

He  suddenly  threw  his  right  arm  up  across  his  face, 
and,  turning  his  back  on  me,  leaned  on  it  against  the 
door,  his  whole  person  shaken  with  sobs. 

I  walked  up  close  to  him  and  laid  my  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  helplessly. 

"Calm  yourself,"  I  began,  but  could  think  of  nothing 
else  to  say. 

He  shook  for  a  moment  and  then,  turning,  with  his 
left  arm  still  across  his  face,  he  held  out  his  right  hand, 
and  I  took  it. 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  do  that.  All  I  want  is  decent 
treatment — ordinary  civility,"  he  faltered  between  his 
sobs.  Then  he  turned  back  and  leant  against  the  door, 
for  he  could  scarcely  stand.  And  so  standing,  he  made 
the  most  forcible,  the  most  eloquent,  and  the  most 
burning  defence  of  his  people  I  have  ever  heard. 

"They  have  civilized  the  world,"  he  declared,  "and 
what  have  they  gotten  from  it  but  brutal  barbarism. 
They  gave  you  your  laws  and  your  literature,  your 
morality  and  your  religion — even  your  Christ;  and  you 
have  violated  every  law,  human  and  divine,  in  their 

99 


THE  FIGHT 

oppression.  You  invaded  our  land,  ravaged  our  coun 
try,  and  scattered  us  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  trying 
to  destroy  our  very  name  and  Nation.  But  the  God 
of  Israel  was  our  refuge  and  consolation.  You  cru 
cified  Jesus  and  then  visited  it  on  us.  You  have 
perpetuated  an  act  of  age-long  hypocrisy,  and  have, 
in  the  name  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  brutalized  over 
his  people.  The  cross  was  your  means  of  punishment 
—no  Jew  ever  used  it.  But  if  we  had  crucified  him  it 
would  have  been  in  the  name  of  Law  and  Order;  your 
crucifixion  was  in  the  name  of  Contempt;  and  you 
have  crucified  a  whole  people  through  the  ages — the 
one  people  who  have  ever  stood  for  the  one  God;  who 
have  stood  for  Morality  and  for  Peace.  A  Jew!  Yes, 
I  am  a  Jew.  I  thank  the  God  of  Israel  that  I  am.  For 
as  he  saved  the  world  in  the  past,  so  he  will  save  it  in 
the  future." 

This  wras  only  a  part  of  it,  and  not  the  best  part;  but 
it  gave  me  a  new  insight  into  his  mind. 

When  he  was  through  I  was  ready.  I  had  reached 
my  decision. 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  I  said,  "not  on  your  account, 
but  on  my  own,  and  make  my  statement  before  the 
whole  crowd.  They  are  still  on  the  hill.  Then,  if  any 
one  wants  to  fight,  he  can  get  it.  I  will  fight  Peck." 

He  repeated  that  he  did  not  want  me  to  do  this,  and 
he  would  not  go;  which  was  as  well,  for  I  might  not 
have  been  able  to  say  so  much  in  his  presence.  So  I 
went  alone  with  my  seconds,  whom  I  immediately 
sought. 

23 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  found  the  latter  working  over  a  cartel  at  a  table 
in  the  next  room,  and  I  walked  in.  They  looked  as 
solemn  as  owls,  but  I  broke  them  up  in  a  moment. 

"You  can  stop  this  infernal  foolishness.  I  have 
apologized  to  Wolffert.  I  have  treated  him  like  a  pig, 
and  so  have  you.  And  I  have  told  him  so,  and  now  I 
am  going  out  to  tell  the  other  fellows." 

Their  astonishment  was  unbounded  and,  at  least, 
one  of  the  group  was  sincerely  disappointed.  I  saw 
Peck's  face  fall  at  my  words  and  then  he  elevated  his 
nose  and  gave  a  little  sniff. 

"Well,  it  did  not  come  from  our  side,"  he  said  in  a 
half  undertone  with  a  sneer. 

I  suddenly  exploded.     His  cold  face  was  so  evil. 

"No,  it  did  not.  I  made  it  freely  and  frankly,  and 
I  am  going  to  make  it  publicly.  But  if  you  are  disap 
pointed,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  you  can  have  a  little 
affair  on  your  own  account.  And  in  order  that  there 
may  be  no  want  of  pretext,  I  wish  to  tell  you  that  I 
believe  you  have  been  telling  lies  on  me,  and  I  consider 
you  a  damned,  sneaking  hypocrite." 

There  was  a  commotion,  of  course,  and  the  others 
all  jumped  in  between  us.  And  when  it  was  over,  I 
walked  out.  Three  minutes  later  I  was  on  the  hill 
among  the  crowd,  which  now  numbered  several  hun 
dred,  for  they  were  all  waiting  to  learn  the  result;  and, 
standing  on  a  bench,  I  told  them  what  I  had  said  to 
Wolffert  and  how  I  felt  I  owed  him  a  public  apology, 
not  for  one  insult,  but  for  a  hundred.  There  was  a 
silence  for  a  second,  and  then  such  a  cheer  broke  out  as 

24 


THE   FIGHT 

I  never  got  any  other  time  in  my  life !  Cheers  for  Wolf- 
fert — cheers  for  Marvel,  and  even  cheers  for  me.  And 
then  a  freckled  youth  with  a  big  mouth  and  a  blue, 
merry  eye  broke  the  tension  by  saying: 

"All  bets  are  off  and  we  sha'n't  have  a  holiday  to 
morrow  at  all."  The  reprobates  had  been  betting  on 
which  of  us  would  fall,  and  had  been  banking  on  a 
possible  holiday. 

Quite  a  crowd  went  to  Wolffert's  room  to  make  atone 
ment  for  any  possible  slight  they  had  put  on  him;  but 
he  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  But  that  night,  he  and 
Marvel  sat  at  our  table  and  always  sat  there  afterward. 
He  illustrated  George  Borrow's  observation  that 
good  manners  and  a  knowledge  of  boxing  will  take 
one  through  the  world. 


25 


IV 

DELILAH 

My  career  at  college  promised  at  one  time  after 
that  to  be  almost  creditable,  but  it  ended  in  nothing. 
I  was  not  a  good  student,  because,  I  flattered  myself, 
I  was  too  good  a  fellow.  I  loved  pleasure  too  much  to 
apply  myself  to  work,  and  was*  too  self-indulgent  to 
deny  myself  anything.  I  despised  the  plodding  ways 
of  cold-blooded  creatures  like  Peck  even  more  than  I 
did  the  dullness  of  John  Marvel.  Why  should  I  delve 
at  Latin  and  Greek  and  Mathematics  when  I  had  all 
the  poets  and  novelists.  I  was  sure  that  when  the 
time  came  I  could  read  up  and  easily  overtake  and 
surpass  the  tortoise-like  monotony  of  Peck's  plodding. 
I  now  and  then  had  an  uneasy  realization  that  Peck  was 
developing,  and  that  John  Marvel,  to  whom  I  used  to 
read  Latin,  had  somehow  come  to  understand  the 
language  better  than  I.  However,  this  was  only  an 
occasional  awakening,  and  the  idea  was  too  unpleasant 
for  me  to  harbor  it  long.  Meantime,  I  would  enjoy 
myself  and  prepare  to  bear  off  the  more  shining  honors 
of  the  orator  and  society-medalist. 

At  the  very  end  I  did,  indeed,  arouse  myself,  for  I  had 
a  new  incentive.  I  fell  in  love.  Toward  the  mid- 
session  holiday  the  place  always  filled  up  with  pretty 

26 


DELILAH 

girls.  Usually  they  came  just  after  "the  exams";  but 
occasionally  some  of  them  came  a  little  in  advance: 
those  who  were  bent  on  conquest.  At  such  times,  only 
cold  anchorites  like  Marvel,  or  calculating  machines 
like  Peck,  stuck  to  their  books.  Among  the  fair  visitants 
this  year  was  one  whose  reputation  for  beauty  had 
already  preceded  her:  Miss  Lilian  Poole.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  a  banker  in  the  capital  of  the  State,  and 
by  all  accounts  was  a  tearing  belle.  She  had  created  a 
sensation  at  the  Mardi  Gras  the  year  before,  and  one 
who  could  do  that  must  be  a  beauty.  She  was  reported 
more  beautiful  than  Isabelle  Henderson,  the  noted 
beauty  of  the  Crescent  city,  whom  she  was  said  to 
resemble.  Certainly,  she  was  not  lacking  in  either 
looks  or  intelligence;  for  those  who  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her,  declared  her  a  Goddess.  I  immediately 
determined  that  I  would  become  her  cavalier  for  the 
occasion.  And  I  so  announced  to  the  dozen  or  more 
fellows  who  composed  our  set.  They  laughed  at  me. 

"Why,  you  do  not  know  her." 

"But  I  shall  know  her." 

"You  are  not  on  speaking  terms  with  Professor 
Sterner" — the  Professor  of  Mathematics  at  whose  house 
she  was  stopping.  The  Professor,  a  logarithmic  ma 
chine,  and  I  had  had  a  falling  out  not  long  before. 
He  had  called  on  me  for  a  recitation,  one  morning 
after  a  dance,  and  I  had  said,  "I  am  not  prepared,  sir." 

"You  never  are  prepared,"  he  said,  which  the  class 
appeared  to  think  amusing.  He  glanced  over  the  room. 

"Mr.  Peck." 

27 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Peck,  also,  had  been  at  the  dance  the  night  before, 
though  he  said  he  had  a  headache,  and  caused  much 
amusement  by  his  gambols  and  antics,  which  were  like 
those  of  a  cow;  I  therefore  expected  him  to  say,  "un 
prepared  "  also.  But  not  so. 

"I  was  unwell  last  night,  sir." 

"Ah!  Well,  I  am  glad,  at  least,  that  you  have  some 
sort  of  a  legitimate  excuse." 

I  flamed  out  and  rose  to  my  feet. 

"Are  you  alluding  to  me,  sir?" 

"Take  your  seat,  sir.  I  deny  your  right  to  question 
me." 

"I  will  not  take  my  seat.  I  do  not  propose  to  sit 
still  and  be  insulted.  I  demand  an  answer  to  my 
question." 

"Take  your  seat,  I  say.  I  will  report  you  to  the 
Faculty,"  he  shouted. 

"Then  you  will  have  to  do  so  very  quickly;  for  I 
shall  report  you  immediately."  And  with  that,  I 
stalked  out  of  the  room.  The  Faculty  met  that  after 
noon  and  I  laid  my  complaint  before  them,  and  as  the 
students,  knowing  the  inside  facts,  took  my  side,  the 
Faculty  held  that  the  Professor  committed  the  first 
breach  and  reprimanded  us  both.  I  was  well  satisfied 
after  I  had  met  and  cut  the  Professor  publicly. 

I  now  acknowledge  the  untowardness  of  the  situa 
tion;  but  when  the  boys  laughed,  I  pooh-poohed  it. 

"I  do  not  speak  to  old  Sterner,  but  I  will  speak  to 
her  the  first  time  I  meet  her." 

"  I  will  bet  you  do  not,"  cried  Sam  Pleasants. 
28 


DELILAH 

"Supper  for  the  crowd,"  chimed  in  several.  They 
were  always  as  ready  to  bet  as  their  long-haired  ances 
tors  were  in  the  German  forests,  where  they  bet  them 
selves  away,  and  kept  their  faith,  to  the  amazement  of 
a  Roman  gentleman,  who  wrote,  "istam  vocant  fidem." 

We  were  all  in  a  room,  the  windows  of  which  looked 
across  the  lawn  toward  the  pillared  portico  of  Professor 
Sterner's  house,  and  some  of  the  boys  were  gazing  over 
toward  the  mansion  that  sheltered  the  subject  of  our 
thoughts.  And  as  it  happened,  at  that  moment,  the 
door  opened  and  out  stepped  the  young  lady  herself,  in 
a  smart  walking  costume,  topped  by  a  large  hat  with  a 
great,  drooping,  beguiling,  white  ostrich  feather.  An 
exclamation  drew  us  all  to  the  window. 

"There  she  is  now!"     Without  doubt,  that  was  she. 

"Jove!     What  a  stunner!" 

"She  is  alone.     There  is  your  chance." 

"Yes,  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  seen  her;  now 
stop  jawing  and  play  ball." 

"Or  pay  up." 

"Yes,  supper  for  the  crowd:  porterhouse  steak; 
chicken,  and  waffles  to  end  with." 

So  they  nagged  me,  one  and  all. 

"Done,"  I  said,  "I  will  do  it  now." 

"You  have  never  seen  her  before?" 

"Never."  I  was  arranging  my  tie  and  brushing  my 
hair. 

"You  swear  it?" 

But  I  hurried  out  of  the  door  and  slammed  it  behind 
me. 

29 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  turned  down  the  walk  that  led  across  the  campus 
to  the  point  whither  Miss  Poole  was  directing  her  steps, 
and  I  took  a  gait  that  I  judged  should  meet  her  at  the 
intersection  of  the  walks.  I  was  doing  some  hard 
thinking,  for  I  knew  the  window  behind  me  was 
crowded  with  derisive  faces. 

As  I  approached  her,  I  cut  my  eye  at  her,  and  a 
glance  nearly  overthrew  my  resolution.  She  was,  in 
deed,  a  charming  picture  as  she  advanced,  though  I 
caught  little  more  than  a  general  impression  of  a  slim, 
straight,  statuesque  figure,  a  pink  face,  surmounted  by 
a  profusion  of  light  hair,  under  a  big  hat  with  white 
feathers,  and  a  pair  of  bluish  eyes.  I  glanced  away, 
but  not  before  she  had  caught  my  eye.  Just  then  a 
whistle  sounded  behind  me,  and  my  nerve  returned. 
I  suddenly  quickened  my  pace,  and  held  out  my  hand. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do?"  I  exclaimed  with  well- 
feigned  surprise  and  pleasure,  plumping  myself  directly 
in  front  of  her.  She  paused;  looked  at  me,  hesitated, 
and  then  drew  back  slightly. 

"I  think — ,  I — .   You  have  made  a  mistake,  I  think." 

"Why,  do  you  not  remember  Henry  Glave?  Is  this 
not  Miss  Belle  Henderson?"  I  asked  in  a  mystified 
way. 

"No,  I  am  not  Miss  Henderson." 

"Oh!  I  beg  your  pardon— I  thought—"  I  began. 
Then,  as  I  moved  back  a  little,  I  added,  "Then  you 
must  be  Miss  Lilian  Poole;  for  there  cannot  be  more 
than  two  like  you  on  earth.  I  beg  your  pardon." 

I  backed  away. 

30 


DELILAH 

"I  am,"  she  said.  Her  mounting  color  showed  that 
she  was  at  least  not  angry,  and  she  gave  proof  of  it. 

"Can  you  tell  me?  Is  not  that  the  way  to  Dr. 
Davis's  house?" 

"Yes — I  will  show  you  which  it  is."  My  manner 
had  become  most  respectful. 

"Oh!     Don't  trouble  yourself,  I  beg  you." 

"It  is  not  the  least  trouble,"  I  said  sincerely,  and  it 
was  the  only  truth  I  had  told.  I  walked  back  a  few 
steps,  hat  in  hand,  pointing  eagerly  to  the  house.  And 
as  I  left,  I  said,  "I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  stupid 
mistake." 

"Oh!  I  do  not  think  it  stupid.     She  is  a  beauty." 

"7  think  so."  I  bowed  low.  I  saw  the  color  rise 
again  as  I  turned  away,  much  pleased  with  myself,  and 
yet  a  good  deal  ashamed,  too. 

When  I  returned  to  "the  lair,"  as  we  termed  Sam 
Pleasants's  room,  the  boys  seized  me.  They  were  like 
howling  dervishes.  But  I  had  grown  serious.  I  was 
very  much  ashamed  of  myself.  And  I  did  the  only 
decent  thing  I  could — I  lied,  or  as  good  as  lied. 

"I  will  give  the  supper  if  you  will  stop  this  yelling. 
Do  you  suppose  I  would  make  a  bet  about  a  girl  I  did 
not  know?" 

This  took  the  spirit  out  of  the  thing,  and  only  one  of 
them  knew  the  truth.  Marvel,  who  was  present,  looked 
at  me  seriously,  and  that  night  said  to  me  half  sadly, 

"You  ought  not  to  have  done  that." 

"What?  I  know  it.  It  was  an  ungentlemanly 
thing." 

31 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  do  not  mean  that.  You  ought  not  to  have  told 
a  story  afterward." 

How  he  knew  it  I  never  knew. 

But  I  had  gotten  caught  in  my  own  mesh.  I  had 
walked  into  the  little  parlor  without  any  invitation,  and 
I  was  soon  hopelessly  entangled  in  the  web  at  which  I 
had  hitherto  scoffed.  I  fell  violently  in  love. 

I  soon  overcame  the  little  difficulty  that  stood  in  my 
way.  And,  indeed,  I  think  Miss  Lilian  Poole  rather 
helped  me  out  about  this.  I  did  not  allow  grass  to  grow 
under  my  feet,  or  any  impression  I  had  made  to  become 
effaced.  I  quickly  became  acquainted  with  my  Diana- 
like  young  lady;  that  is,  to  speak  more  exactly,  I  got 
myself  presented  to  her,  for  my  complete  acquaintance 
with  her  was  of  later  date,  when  I  had  spent  all  the 
little  patrimony  I  had.  I  saw  immediately  that  she 
knew  the  story  of  the  wager,  though  she  did  not  at  that 
time  refer  to  it,  and  so  far  as  I  could  tell,  she  did  not 
resent  it.  She,  at  least,  gave  no  sign  of  it.  I  asked  her 
to  allow  me  to  escort  her  to  a  German,  but  she  had  an 
engagement. 

"Who  is  it?"  I  inquired  rather  enviously. 

She  had  a  curious  expression  in  her  eyes — which,  by 
the  way,  were  a  cool  blue  or  gray,  I  never  could  be 
sure  which,  and  at  times  looked  rather  like  steel. 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  her  little  mouth  drew  in 
somewhat  closely. 

"Mr.  Peck."  Her  voice  was  a  singular  instrument. 
It  had  so  great  a  compass  and  possessed  some  notes 
that  affected  me  strangely;  but  it  also  could  be  without 

32 


DELILAH 

the  least  expression.  So  it  was  now  when  she  said,  "  Mr. 
Peck/*  but  she  colored  slightly,  as  I  burst  out  laughing. 

"Peck!  Pecksniff?  Did  you  ever  see  him  dance? 
I  should  as  soon  have  thought  of  your  dancing  with  a 
clothes-horse." 

She  appeared  somewhat  troubled. 

"Does  he  dance  so  badly  as  that?  He  told  me  he 
danced." 

"So  he  does — like  this."  I  gave  an  imitation  of 
Peck's  gyrations,  in  which  I  was  so  earnest  that  I 
knocked  over  a  table  and  broke  a  fine  lamp,  to  my  great 
consternation. 

"Well,  you  are  realistic,"  observed  Miss  Poole, 
calmly,  who  struck  me  as  not  so  much  concerned  at 
my  misfortune  as  I  might  have  expected.  When, 
however,  she  saw  how  really  troubled  I  was,  she  was 
more  sympathetic. 

"Perhaps,  if  we  go  out,  they  will  not  know  who  did 
it,"  she  observed. 

"Well,  no,  I  could  not  do  that,"  I  said,  thinking  of 
Peck,  and  then  as  her  expression  did  not  change,  I  fired 
a  shot  that  I  meant  to  tell.  "Peck  would  do  that  sort 
of  thing.  I  shall  tell  them." 

To  this  she  made  no  reply.  She  only  looked  in 
scrutably  pretty.  But  it  often  came  back  to  me 
afterward  how  calmly  and  quite  as  a  matter  of  course 
she  suggested  my  concealing  the  accident,  and  I  won 
dered  if  she  thought  I  was  a  liar. 

She  had  a  countenance  that  I  once  thought  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world ;  but  which  changed  rarely. 

33 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Its  only  variations  were  from  an  infantile  beauty  to  a 
statuesque  firmness. 

Yet  that  girl,  with  her  rather  set  expression  and 
infantile  face,  her  wide  open,  round  eyes  and  pink 
prettiness,  was  as  deep  as  a  well,  and  an  artesian  well 
at  that. 

I  soon  distanced  all  rivals.  Peck  was  quickly  dis 
posed  of;  though,  with  his  nagging  persistence,  he  still 
held  on.  This  bored  me  exceedingly  and  her  too,  if  I 
could  judge  by  her  ridicule  of  him  and  her  sarcasm 
which  he  somehow  appeared  too  stupid  to  see.  He 
succumbed,  however,  to  my  mimicry  of  his  dancing; 
for  I  was  a  good  mimic,  and  Peck,  in  a  very  high  collar 
and  with  very  short  trousers  on  his  dumpy  legs,  was 
really  a  fair  mark.  Miss  Poole  was  by  no  means  indif 
ferent  to  public  opinion,  and  a  shaft  of  satire  could 
penetrate  her  mail  of  complacency.  So  when  she  re 
turned  later  to  the  classic  shades  of  the  university,  as 
she  did  a  number  of  times  for  Germans  and  other 
social  functions,  I  made  a  good  deal  of  hay.  A  phrase 
of  Peck's,  apropos  of  this,  stuck  in  my  memory.  Some 
one — it  was,  I  think,  Leo  Wolffert — said  that  I  ap 
peared  to  be  making  hay,  and  Peck  said,  "Yes,  I  would 
be  eating  it  some  day."  I  often  wondered  afterward 
how  he  stumbled  on  the  witticism. 

Those  visits  of  my  tall  young  dulcinea  cost  me  dear 
in  the  sequel.  While  the  other  fellows  were  boning  I 
was  lounging  in  the  drawing-room  chattering  nonsense 
or  in  the  shade  of  the  big  trees  in  some  secluded  nook, 
writing  her  very  warm  poems  of  the  character  which 

34 


DELILAH 

Horace  says  is  hated  both  of  Gods  and  men.  Several  of 
these  poems  were  published  in  the  college  magazine. 
The  constant  allusions  to  her  physical  charms  caused 
Peck  to  say  that  I  evidently  considered  Miss  Poole  to  be 
"composed  wholly  of  eyes  and  hair."  His  observation 
that  a  man  was  a  fool  to  write  silly  verses  to  a  girl  he 
loved,  because  it  gave  her  a  wrong  idea  of  her  charms, 
I,  at  the  time,  set  down  to  sheer  envy,  for  Peck  could 
not  turn  a  rhyme;  but  since  I  have  discovered  that  for 
a  practical  person  like  Peck,  it  has  a  foundation,  of 
truth. 


35 


THE    HARE    AND    THE    TORTOISE 

Meantime,  my  studies — if  any  part  of  my  desultory 
occupation  could  be  so  termed — suffered  undeniably. 
My  appearance  at  the  classroom  door  with  a  cigarette, 
which  I  flung  away  just  in  time  not  to  carry  it  into  the 
room,  together  with  my  chronic  excuse  of  being  "unpre 
pared,"  moved  the  driest  of  my  professors  to  the  witti 
cism  that  I  "divided  my  time  between  a  smoke  and  a 
flame."  It  was  only  as  the  finals  drew  near  that  I 
began  to  appreciate  that  I  would  have  the  least  trouble 
in  "making  my  tickets,"  as  the  phrase  went.  Sam 
Pleasants,  Leo  Wolffert  and  my  other  friends  had  begun 
to  be  anxious  for  me  for  some  time  before — and  both 
Wolffert  and  John  Marvel  had  come  to  me  and  sug 
gested  my  working,  at  least,  a  little:  Wolffert  with 
delicacy  and  warmth;  John  Marvel  with  that  awkward 
bluntness  with  which  he  always  went  at  anything.  I 
felt  perfectly  easy  in  my  mind  then  and  met  their 
entreaties  scornfully. 

"Why,  I  did  well  enough  at  the  Intermediates,"  I 
said. 

"Yes,  but,"  said  John  Marvel,  "Delilah  was  not  here 
then-  -" 

I  was  conscious,  even  though  I  liked  the  reference  to 
Samson,  of  being  a  little  angered;  but  John  Marvel 

36 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE 

looked  so  innocent  and  so  hopelessly  friendly  that  I 
passed  it  by  with  a  laugh  and  paid  Miss  Poole  more 
attention  than  ever. 

The  Debater's  Medal  had  for  a  long  time  been,  in  the 
general  estimation,  as  good  as  accorded  me;  for  I  was 
a  fluent,  and  I  personally  thought,  eloquent  speaker,  and 
had  some  reading.  But  when  Wolffert  entered  the 
debate,  his  speeches  so  far  outshone  mine  that  I  knew 
at  once  that  I  was  beat.  They  appeared  not  so  much 
prepared  for  show,  as  mine  were,  as  to  come  from  a 
storehouse  of  reading  and  reflection.  Wolffert,  who  had 
begun  to  speak  without  any  design  of  entering  the  con 
test  for  the  Medal,  would  generously  have  retired,  but 
I  would  not  hear  of  that.  I  called  Peck  to  account  for 
a  speech  which  I  had  heard  of  his  making:  that  "the 
contest  was  between  a  Jew  and  a  jug";  but  he  denied 
making  it,  so  I  lost  even  that  satisfaction. 

I  worked  for  the  Magazine  Medal;  but  my  "poems" 
—"To  Cynthia"  and  "To  Felicia,"  and  my  fanciful 
sketches,  though  they  were  thought  fine  by  our  set,  did 
not,  in  the  estimation  of  the  judges,  equal  the  serious 
and  solemn  essays  on  Julius  Caesar  and  Alexander 
Hamilton,  to  which  the  prize  was  awarded.  At  least, 
the  author  of  those  essays  had  worked  over  them  like 
a  dog,  and  in  the  maturer  light  of  experience,  I  think 
he  earned  the  prizes. 

I  worked  hard — at  least,  at  the  last,  for  my  law 
degree,  and  every  one  was  sure  I  would  win — as  sure 
as  that  Peck  would  lose;  but  Peck  scraped  through 
while  mine  was  held  up — because  the  night  before  the 

37 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

degrees  were  posted  I  insisted  on  proving  to  the  pro 
fessor  who  had  my  fate  in  his  hands,  and  whom  I 
casually  ran  into,  that  a  "gentleman  drunk  was  a 
gentleman  sober,"  the  idea  having  been  suggested  to 
my  muddled  brain  by  my  having  just  been  good- 
natured  enough  to  put  to  bed  Peck.  I  finally  got 
the  degree,  but  not  until  I  had  been  through  many 
tribulations,  one  of  which  was  the  sudden  frost  in 
Miss  Poole's  manner  to  me.  That  girl  was  like  autumn 
weather.  She  could  be  as  warm  as  summer  one  minute 
and  the  next  the  thermometer  would  drop  below  the 
freezing  point.  I  remember  I  was  her  escort  the  even 
ing  of  the  Final  Ball.  She  looked  like  Juno  with  the 
flowers  I  had  gone  out  in  the  country  to  get  for  her 
from  an  old  garden  that  I  knew.  Her  face  was  very 
high  bred  and  her  pose  majestic.  I  was  immensely 
proud  of  her  and  of  myself  as  her  escort — and  as  Peck 
stalked  in  with  a  new  and  ill-fitting  suit  of  "store- 
clothes"  on,  I  fancy  I  put  on  my  toppiest  air.  But 
Peck  had  a  shaft  and  he  came  there  to  shoot  it.  As  he 
passed  near  us,  he  said  in  a  loud  voice  to  someone, 
"The  B.  L.  list  is  posted." 

"Are  you  through?"  demanded  the  other. 

"Yep." 

"Anybody  failed  't  we  expected  to  get  through?" 

"  'T  depends  on  who  you  expected  to  get  through. 
Glave's  not  on  it." 

His  shaft  came  home.  I  grew  cold  for  a  minute  and 
then  recovered  myself.  I  saw  my  partner's  face  change. 
I  raised  my  head  and  danced  on  apparently  gayer  than 

38 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE 

ever,  though  my  heart  was  lead.  And  she  played  her 
part  well,  too.  But  a  few  minutes  later  when  Peck 
strutted  up,  a  decided  cock  to  his  bullet  head,  I  heard 
her,  as  I  turned  away,  congratulate  him  on  his  success. 

I  slipped  out  and  went  over  to  the  bulletin-board 
where  the  degree-men  were  posted,  and  sure  enough,  I 
was  not  among  them.  A  curious  crowd  was  still 
standing  about  and  they  stopped  talking  as  I  came  up, 
so  I  knew  they  had  been  talking  about  me.  I  must  say 
that  all  showed  concern,  and  sympathy  was  written  on 
every  face.  It  was,  at  least,  sweet  to  know  that  they 
all  considered  it  a  cursed  shame,  and  set  my  failure 
down  to  hostility  on  the  part  of  one  of  the  professors. 
I  was  determined  that  no  one  should  know  how  hard  hit 
I  was,  and  I  carried  my  head  high  till  the  ball  was  out, 
and  was  so  lofty  with  Miss  Poole  that  she  was  mystified 
into  being  very  receptive.  I  do  not  know  what  might 
have  happened  that  night  if  it  had  not  been  for  old  John 
Marvel.  I  learned  afterward  that  I  was  pretty  wild.  He 
found  me  when  I  was  wildly  denouncing  the  law  pro 
fessor  who  had  failed  to  put  me  through  in  some  minor 
course,  and  was  vowing  that  I  would  smash  in  his  door 
and  force  my  diploma  from  him.  I  might  have  been 
crazy  enough  to  attempt  it  had  not  old  John  gotten  hold 
of  me.  He  and  Wolffert  put  me  to  bed  and  stayed  with 
me  till  I  was  sober.  And  sober  enough  I  was  next  day. 

As  I  have  said,  I  received  my  diploma  finally;  but 
I  lost  all  the  prestige  and  pleasure  of  receiving  it  along 
with  my  class,  and  I  passed  through  some  of  the  bitter 
est  hours  that  a  young  man  can  know. 

39 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Among  my  friends  at  college — I  might  say  among  my 
warmest  friends— was  my  old  crony  "  Jeams,"  or,  as  he 
spoke  of  himself  to  those  whom  he  did  not  regard  as  his 
social  equals,  or  whom  he  wanted  to  amuse  himself 
with,  "Mister  Woodson";  a  little  later  changed  to 
"Professor  Woodson,"  as  more  dignified  and  consonant 
with  the  managing  class  of  the  institution.  When  I  left 
for  college  he  followed  me,  after  a  brief  interval,  and 
first  appeared  as  a  waiter  at  the  college  boarding-house 
where  I  boarded,  having  used  my  name  as  a  reference, 
though  at  home  he  had  never  been  nearer  the  dining- 
room  than  the  stable.  Here  he  was  promptly  turned 
out,  and  thereupon  became  a  hanger-on  of  mine  and  a 
"Factotum"  for  me  and  my  friends. 

He  was  now  a  tall,  slim  fellow,  with  broad  shoulders 
and  the  muscles  of  Atlas — almost  but  not  quite  black 
and  with  a  laugh  that  would  have  wiled  Cerberus.  He 
had  the  shrewdness  of  a  wild  animal,  and  was  as  imita 
tive  as  a  monkey,  and  this  faculty  had  inspired  and 
enabled  him  to  pick  up  all  sorts  of  acquirements,  rang 
ing  from  reading  and  writing  to  sleight-of-hand  tricks* 
for  which  he  showed  a  remarkable  aptitude.  Moreover, 
he  had  a  plenty  of  physical  courage,  and  only  needed  to 
be  backed  by  someone,  on  whom  he  relied,  to  do  any 
thing. 

I  was  naturally  attached  to  him  and  put  up  with  his 
rascalities,  though  they  often  taxed  me  sorely,  while  he, 
on  his  part,  was  so  sincerely  attached  to  me,  that  I 
believe  he  would  have  committed  any  crime  at  my 
bidding. 

40 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE  . 

He  considered  my  old  clothes  his  property,  and  what 
was  far  more  inconvenient,  considered  himself  the  judge 
of  the  exact  condition  and  moment  when  they  should 
pass  from  my  possession  to  his. 

He  was  a  handsome  rascal,  and  took  at  times  such 
pride  in  his  appearance  that,  as  he  was  about  my  size, 
I  had  often  to  exercise  a  close  watch  on  my  meagre 
wardrobe.  He  had  not  only  good,  but  really  distin 
guished  manners,  and,  like  many  of  his  race,  prided 
himself  on  his  manners.  Thus,  on  an  occasion  when  he 
passed  Peck  at  college,  and  touched  his  hat  to  him,  a 
civility  which  Peck  ignored,  Wolffert  said  to  him, 
"  Jeams,  Mr.  Peck  don't  appear  to  recognize  you." 

"Oh!  yes,"  said  Jeams,  "he  recognizes  me,  but  he 
don't  recognize  what's  due  from  one  gent'man  to 
another." 

"  Are  you  going  to  keep  on  touching  your  hat  to  him  ?  " 
asked  Wolffert. 

"Oh!  yes,  suh,"  said  Jeams,  "I  takes  keer  o'  my 
manners,  and  lets  him  take  keer  o'  hisn'." 

Such  was  "Jeams,"  my  "body  servant,"  as  he  styled 
himself,  on  occasions  when  he  had  an  eye  to  some 
article  of  my  apparel  or  stood  in  especial  need  of  a 
donation. 

He  hated  Peck  with  as  much  violence  as  his  easy 
going  nature  was  capable  of,  and  had  no  liking  for 
Wolffert.  The  fact  that  the  latter  was  a  Jew  and  yet 
my  friend,  staggered  him,  though  he  put  up  with  him  for 
my  sake,  and  on  the  night  of  my  fight  with  Wolffert,  I 
think  he  would,  had  he  had  a  chance,  have  murdered 

41 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

him,  as  I  am  sure  he  would  have  murdered  the  professor 
who  threw  me  on  my  degree.  He  got  much  fuller  than 
I  got  that  night,  and  his  real  grief  and  shame  were 
among  the  heaviest  burdens  I  had  to  bear. 

Miss  Poole  returned  home  the  next  afternoon  after 
the  delivery  of  the  diplomas,  and  I  heard  that  Peck  went 
off  on  the  same  train  with  her. 

I  expected  some  sympathy  from  the  girl  for  whom 
my  devotion  had  cost  me  so  much;  but  she  was  as  cool 
and  sedate  over  my  failure  as  if  it  had  been  Peck's. 

All  she  said  was,  "Why  did  not  you  win  the  honors  ?" 

"Because  I  did  not  work  enough  for  them." 

"Why  did  not  you  work  more?" 

I  came  near  saying,  "Because  I  was  fooling  around 
you";  but  I  simply  said,  "Because  I  was  so  certain  of 
winning  them." 

"You  showed  rather  bad  judgment."  That  was  all 
the  sympathy  I  received  from  her. 

The  old  law  professor  when  he  took  leave  of  me  said 
— and  I  remember  said  it  gravely — "Mr.  Glave,  you 
have  the  burden  of  too  many  gifts  to  carry." 

I  was  pleased  by  the  speech  and  showed  it.  He 
looked  at  me  keenly  from  under  his  bushy  eyebrows. 
"I  commend  to  you  the  fable  of  the  hare  and  the 
tortoise.  We  shall  hear  of  Peck." 

I  wondered  how  he  knew  I  was  thinking  of  Peck  with 
his  common  face,  hard  eyes,  and  stumpy  legs. 

"You  shall  hear  of  me,  too,"  I  declared  with  some 
haughtiness. 

He  only  smiled  politely  and  made  no  answer. 
42 


THE  HARE  -AND  THE  TORTOISE 

Nettled,  I  asked  arrogantly,  "Don't  you  think  I 
have  more  sense — more  intellect  than  Peck  ?  " 

"More  intellect— yes— much  more. — More  sense? 
No.  Remember  the  fable.  'There  are  ways  that  you 
know  not  and  paths  that  you  have  not  tried.'" 

"Oh!   that  fable— it  is  as  old  as— 

"Humanity,"  he  said.  "'To  scorn  delights  and  live 
laborious  days.'  You  will  never  do  that— Peck  will." 

I  left  him,  angry  and  uncomfortable. 

I  had  rather  looked  forward  to  going  to  the  West  to 
a  near  cousin  of  my  father's,  who,  if  report  were  true, 
had  made  a  fortune  as  a  lawyer  and  an  investor  in  a 
Western  city.  He  and  my  father  had  been  boys 
together,  but  my  cousin  had  gone  West  and  when  the 
war  came,  he  had  taken  the  other  side.  My  father, 
however,  always  retained  his  respect  for  him  and  spoke 
of  him  with  affection.  He  had  been  to  my  home  during 
my  early  college-life — a  big,  stolid,  strong-faced  man, 
silent  and  cold,  but  watchful  and  clear-minded — and 
had  appeared  to  take  quite  a  fancy  to  me. 

"When  he  gets  through,"  he  had  said  to  my  father, 
"  send  him  out  to  me.  That  is  the  place  for  brains  and 
ambition,  and  I  will  see  what  is  in  him  for  you." 

Now  that  I  had  failed,  I  could  not  write  to  him; 
but  as  he  had  made  a  memorandum  of  my  graduation 
year,  and  as  he  had  written  my  father  several  times,  I 
rather  expected  he  would  open  the  way  for  me.  But 
no  letter  came.  So  I  was  content  to  go  to  the  capital 
of  the  State. 


43 


VI 

THE    METEOR 

I  am  convinced  now  that  as  parents  are  the  most 
unselfish  creatures,  children  are  the  veriest  brutes  on 
earth.  I  was  too  self-absorbed  to  think  of  my  kind 
father,  who  had  sacrificed  everything  to  give  me  oppor 
tunities  which  I  had  thrown  under  the  feet  of  Lilian 
Poole  and  who  now  consoled  and  encouraged  me  with 
out  a  word  of  censure.  Though  I  was  deeply  grieved  at 
the  loss  of  my  parents,  I  did  not  know  until  years  after 
ward  what  an  elemental  and  life-long  calamity  that 
loss  was. 

My  father  appeared  as  much  pleased  with  my  single 
success  as  if  I  had  brought  him  home  the  honors  which 
I  had  been  boasting  I  would  show  him.  He  gave  me 
only  two  or  three  bits  of  advice  before  I  left  home.  "  Be 
careful  with  other  people's  money  and  keep  out  of 
debt/'  he  said.  "Also,  have  no  dealings  with  a  rascal, 
no  matter  how  tightly  you  think  you  can  tie  him  up." 
And  his  final  counsel  was,  "Marry  a  lady  and  do  not 
marry  a  fool." 

I  wondered  if  he  were  thinking  of  Lilian  Poole. 

However,  I  had  not  the  least  doubt  in  my  mind  about 
winning  success  both  with  her  and  with  that  even  more 
jealous  Mistress — The  Law.  In  fact,  I  quite  meant  to 
revolutionize  things  by  the  meteoric  character  of  my 
career. 

44 


THE  METEOR 

T  started  out  well.  I  took  a  good  office  fronting  on 
the  street  in  one  of  the  best  office-buildings— an 
extravagance  I  could  not  afford.  Peck  had  a  little 
dark  hole  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall.  He  made  a 
half  proposal  to  share  my  office  with  me,  but  I  could 
not  stand  that.  I,  however,  told  him  that  he  was 
welcome  to  use  my  office  and  books  as  much  as  he 
pleased,  and  he  soon  made  himself  so  much  at  home  in 
my  office  that  I  think  he  rather  fell  into  the  habit  of 
thinking  my  clients  his  own. 

Before  I  knew  many  people  I  worked  hard ;  read  law 
and  a  great  deal  of  other  literature.  But  this  did  not 
last  long,  for  I  was  social  and  made  acquaintances 
easily.  Moreover,  I  soon  began  to  get  cases;  though 
they  were  too  small  to  satisfy  me — quite  below  my 
abilities,  I  thought.  So,  unless  they  promised  me  a 
chance  of  speaking  before  a  jury,  I  turned  them  over  to 
Peck,  who  would  bone  at  them  and  work  like  a  horse, 
though  I  often  had  to  hunt  up  the  law  for  him,  a  labor 
I  never  knew  him  to  acknowledge. 

At  first  I  used  to  correspond  with  both  John  Marvel 
and  Wolffert;  but  gradually  I  left  their  letters  unan 
swered.  John,  who  had  gone  West,  was  too  full  of 
his  country  parish  to  interest  me,  and  Wolffert's 
abstractions  were  too  altruistic  for  me. 

Meantime,  I  was  getting  on  swimmingly.  I  was 
taken  into  the  best  social  set  in  the  city,  and  was  soon 
quite  a  favorite  among  them.  I  was  made  a  member 
of  all  the  germans  as  well  as  of  the  best  club  in  town; 
was  welcomed  in  the  poker-game  of  "the  best  fellows" 

45 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

in  town,  and  was  invited  out  so  much  that  I  really  had 
no  time  to  do  much  else  than  enjoy  my  social  success. 
But  the  chief  of  the  many  infallible  proofs  I  had  was 
my  restoration  to  Lilian  Poole's  favor.  Since  I  was 
become  a  sort  of  toast  with  those  whose  opinion  she 
valued  highly,  she  was  more  cordial  to  me  than  ever, 
and  I  was  ready  enough  to  let  by-gones  be  by-gones  and 
dangle  around  the  handsomest  girl  in  the  State,  daugh 
ter  of  a  man  who  was  president  of  a  big  bank  and 
director  of  a  half-dozen  corporations.  I  was  with  her 
a  great  deal.  In  fact,  before  my  second  winter  was 
out,  my  name  was  coupled  with  hers  by  all  of  our  set 
and  many  not  in  our  set.  And  about  three  evenings 
every  week  I  was  to  be  found  basking  in  her  somewhat 
steady  smile,  either  at  some  dance  or  other  social 
entertainment;  strolling  with  her  in  the  dusk  on  our 

way  home  from  the  fashionable  promenade  of  

Street — which,  for  some  reason,  she  always  liked, 
though  I  would  often  have  preferred  some  quieter  walk 
— or  lounging  on  her  plush-covered  sofa  in  her  back 
drawing-room.  I  should  have  liked  it  better  had  Peck 
taken  the  hint  that  most  of  my  other  friends  had  taken 
and  kept  away  from  her  house  on  those  evenings 
which  by  a  tacit  consent  of  nearly  every  one  were  left 
for  my  visits.  But  Peck,  who  now  professed  a  great 
friendship  for  me,  must  take  to  coming  on  precisely  the 
evenings  I  had  selected  for  my  calls.  He  never  wore  a 
collar  that  fitted  him,  and  his  boots  were  never  blacked. 
Miss  Lilian  used  to  laugh  at  him  and  call  him  "the 
burr" — indeed,  so  much  that  I  more  than  once  told 

46 


THE  METEOR 

her,  that  while  I  was  not  an  admirer  of  Peck  myself,  I 
thought  the  fact  that  he  was  really  in  love  with  her 
ought  to  secure  him  immunity  from  her  sarcasm.  We 
had  quite  a  stiff  quarrel  over  the  matter,  and  I  told  her 
what  our  old  law  professor  had  said  of  Peck. 

I  had  rather  thought  that,  possibly,  Mr.  Poole,  know 
ing  of  the  growing  relation  of  intimacy  between  myself 
and  his  daughter,  would  throw  a  little  of  his  law  business 
my  way;  but  he  never  did.  He  did,  in  fact,  once  con 
sult  me  at  his  own  house  about  some  extensive  interests 
that  he  owned  and  represented  together  in  a  railway 
in  a  Western  city;  but  though  I  took  the  trouble  to 
hunt  up  the  matter  and  send  him  a  brief  on  the  point 
carefully  prepared,  he  did  not  employ  me,  and  evidently 
considered  that  I  had  acted  only  as  a  friend.  It  was  in 
this  investigation  that  I  first  heard  of  the  name  Argand 
and  also  of  the  P.  D.  and  B.  D.  R.R.  Co.  I  heard 
long  afterward  that  he  said  I  had  too  many  interests 
to  suit  him;  that  he  wanted  a  lawyer  to  give  him  all 
his  intellect,  and  not  squander  it  on  politics,  literature, 
sport,  and  he  did  not  know  what  besides.  This  was 
a  dig  at  my  rising  aspirations  in  each  of  these  fields. 
For  I  used  to  write  now  regularly  for  the  newspapers, 
and  had  one  or  two  articles  accepted  by  a  leading 
monthly  magazine — a  success  on  which  even  Peck 
congratulated  me,  though  he  said  that,  as  for  him,  he 
preferred  the  law  to  any  other  entertainment.  My 
newspaper  work  attracted  sufficient  attention  to  inspire 
me  with  the  idea  of  running  for  Congress,  and  I  began 
to  set  my  traps  and  lay  my  triggers  for  that. 

47 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Success  appeared  to  wait  for  me,  and  my  beginning 
was  "meteoric." 

Meteoric  beginnings  are  fatal.  The  meteor  soon 
fades  into  outer  darkness — the  outer  darkness  of  the 
infinite  abyss.  I  took  it  for  success  and  presumed  ac 
cordingly,  and  finally  I  came  down.  I  played  my  game 
too  carelessly.  I  began  to  speculate — just  a  little  at 
first;  but  more  largely  after  awhile.  There  I  appeared 
to  find  my  proper  field;  for  I  made  money  almost  im 
mediately,  and  I  spent  it  freely,  and,  after  I  had  made 
a  few  thousands,  I  was  regarded  with  respect  by  my 
little  circle. 

I  began  to  make  money  so  much  more  easily  by  this 
means  than  I  had  ever  done  by  the  law  that  I  no  longer 
thought  it  worth  while  to  stay  in  my  office,  as  I  had 
done  at  first,  but  spent  my  time,  in  a  flock  of  other 
lambs,  in  front  of  a  blackboard  in  a  broker's  office, 
figuring  on  chances  which  had  already  been  decided  in 
brokers'  offices  five  hundred  miles  away.  Thus,  though 
I  worked  up  well  the  cases  I  had,  and  was  fairly  success 
ful  with  them,  I  found  my  clients  in  time  drifting  away 
to  other  men  not  half  as  clever  as  I  was,  who  had  no 
other  aim  than  to  be  lawyers.  Peck  got  some  of  my 
clients.  Indeed,  one  of  my  clients  in  warning  me  against 
speculating,  which,  he  said,  ruined  more  young  men 
than  faro  and  drink  together,  told  me  he  had  learned  of 
my  habit  through  Peck.  Peck  was  always  in  his  office 
or  mine.  I  had  made  some  reputation,  however,  as  a 
speaker,  and  as  I  had  taken  an  active  part  in  politics 
and  had  many  friends,  I  stood  a  good  chance  for  the 

48 


THE  METEOR 

commonwealth's  attorneyship ;  but  I  had  determined  to 
fly  higher:  I  wanted  to  go  to  Congress. 

I  kept  a  pair  of  horses  now,  since  I  was  so  successful, 
and  used  to  hunt  in  the  season  with  other  gay  pleasure- 
lovers,  or  spend  my  afternoons  riding  with  Miss  Poole, 
who  used  to  look  well  on  horseback.  We  often  passed 
Peck  plodding  along  alone,  stolid  and  solemn,  "  taking 
his  constitutional,"  he  said.  I  remember  once  as  we 
passed  him  I  recalled  what  the  old  professor  had  said 
of  him,  and  I  added  that  I  would  not  be  as  dull  as  Peck 
for  a  fortune.  "Do  you  know,"  said  Miss  Poole,  sud 
denly,  "J  do  not  think  him  so  dull;  he  has  improved." 
Peck  sat  me  out  a  few  nights  after  this,  and  next  day  I 
nearly  insulted  him;  but  he  was  too  dull  to  see  it. 

I  knew  my  young  lady  was  ambitious;  so  I  deter 
mined  to  please  her,  and,  chucking  up  the  fight  for  the 
attorneyship,  I  told  her  I  was  going  to  Congress,  and 
began  to  work  for  it.  I  was  promised  the  support  of  so 
many  politicians  that  I  felt  absolutely  sure  of  the  nomi 
nation. 

Peck  told  me  flatly  that  I  did  not  stand  the  ghost  of  a 
show;  and  began  to  figure.  Peck  was  always  figuring. 
He  advised  me  to  stand  for  the  attorneyship,  and  said  I 
might  get  it  if  I  really  tried.  I  knew  better,  however, 
and  I  knew  Peck,  too,  so  I  started  in.  To  make  a  fighl 
I  wanted  money,  and  it  happened  that  a  little  trip  I  had 
taken  in  the  summer,  when  I  was  making  a  sort  of  a 
splurge,  together  with  an  unlooked-for  and  wholly  in 
explicable  adverse  turn  in  the  market  had  taken  all  my 
cash.  So,  to  make  it  up,  I  went  into  the  biggest  deal  I 

49 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ever  tried.  What  was  the  use  of  fooling  about  a  few 
score  dollars  a  point  when  I  could  easily  make  it  a 
thousand?  I  would  no  longer  play  at  the  shilling- 
table.  I  had  a  "dead-open-and-shut  thing"  of  it.  I 
had  gotten  inside  information  of  a  huge  railroad  deal 
quietly  planned,  and  was  let  in  as  a  great  favor  by  in 
fluential  friends,  who  were  close  friends  of  men  who 
were  manipulating  the  market,  and  especially  the  P.  D. 
and  B.  D.,  a  North-western  road  which  had  been  re 
organized  some  years  before.  Mr.  Poole  had  some 
interest  in  it  and  this  made  me  feel  quite  safe  as  to  the 
deal.  I  knew  they  were  staking  their  fortunes  on  it.  I 
was  so  sure  about  it  that  I  even  advised  Peck,  for  whom 
I  had  some  gratitude  on  account  of  his  advice  about 
the  attorneyship,  to  let  me  put  him  in  for  a  little.  But 
he  declined.  He  said  he  had  other  use  for  his  money 
and  had  made  it  a  rule  not  to  speculate.  I  told  him  he 
was  a  fool,  and  I  borrowed  all  I  could  and  went  in. 

It  was  the  most  perfectly  managed  affair  I  ever  saw. 
We — our  friends — carried  the  stock  up  to  a  point  that 
was  undreamed  of,  and  money  was  too  valuable  to  pay 
debts  with,  even  had  my  creditors  wanted  it,  which  they 
did  not,  now  that  I  had  recouped  and  was  again  on  the 
crest  of  the  wave.  I  was  rich  and  was  doubling  up  in  a 
pyramid,  when  one  of  those  things  happened  that  does 
not  occur  once  in  ten  million  times  and  cannot  be 
guarded  against!  We  were  just  prepared  to  dump  the 
whole  business,  when  our  chief  backer,  as  he  was  on 
his  way  in  his  carriage  to  close  the  deal,  was  struck  by 
lightning!  I  was  struck  by  the  same  bolt.  In  twenty 

50 


THE  METEOR 

minutes  I  was  in  debt  twenty  thousand  dollars.  Tele 
grams  and  notices  for  margin  began  to  pour  in  on  me 
again  within  the  hour.  None  of  them  bothered  me  so 
much,  however,  as  a  bank  notice  that  I  had  overchecked 
an  account  in  which  I  had  a  sum  of  a  few  hundred 
dollars  belonging  to  a  client  of  mine — an  old  widowed 
lady,  Mrs.  Upshur,  who  had  brought  it  to  me  to  invest 
for  her,  and  who  trusted  me.  She  had  been  robbed  by 
her  last  agent  and  this  was  really  all  that  was  left  her. 
I  remembered  how  she  had  insisted  on  my  keeping  it 
for  her  against  the  final  attack  of  the  wolf,  she  had  said. 
"But  suppose  I  should  spend  it,"  I  had  said  jesting. 
"I'm  not  afraid  of  your  spending  it,  but  of  myself — I 
want  so  many  things.  If  I  couldn't  trust  you,  I'd  give 
up."  And  now  it  was  gone.  It  came  to  me  that  if  I 
should  die  at  that  moment  she  would  think  I  had  robbed 
her,  and  would  have  a  right  to  think  so.  I  swear  that 
at  the  thought  I  staggered,  and  since  then  I  have  always 
known  how  a  thief  must  sometimes  feel.  It  decided  me, 
however.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  second  that  I  would 
never  again  buy  another  share  of  stock  on  a  margin  as 
long  as  I  lived,  and  I  wrote  telegrams  ordering  every 
broker  I  had  to  sell  me  out  and  send  me  my  accounts, 
and  I  mortgaged  my  old  home  for  all  I  could  get.  I 
figured  that  I  wanted  just  one  hundred  dollars  more 
than  I  had.  I  walked  across  the  hall  into  Peck's  little 
dark  office.  He  was  poring  over  a  brief.  I  said,  "  Peck, 
I  am  broke." 

"What?    I  am  sorry  to  hear  it — but  I  am  not  sur 
prised."    He  was  perfectly  cool,  but  did  look  sorry. 

51 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Peck,"  I  went  on,  "I  saw  you  pricing  a  watch  the 
other  day.  Here  is  one  I  gave  three  hundred  dollars 
for."  I  showed  him  a  fine  chronometer  repeater  I  had 
bought  in  my  flush  time. 

"I  can't  give  over  a  hundred  dollars  for  a  watch,"  he 
said. 

"How  much  will  you  give  me  for  this?" 

"You  mean  with  the  chain?" 

"Yes"— I  had  not  meant  with  the  chain,  but  I 
thought  of  old  Mrs.  Upshur. 

"I  can't  give  over  a  hundred." 

"Take  it,"  and  I  handed  it  to  him  and  he  gave  me  a 
hundred-dollar  bill,  which  I  took  with  the  interest  and 
handed,  myself,  to  my  old  lady,  whom  I  advised  to  let 
Peck  invest  for  her  on  a  mortgage.  This  he  did,  and  I 
heard  afterward  netted  her  six  per  cent — for  a  time. 

That  evening  I  went  to  see  Lilian  Poole.  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  quickly  what  to  do.  That  stroke  of  light 
ning  had  showed  me  everything  just  as  it  was,  in  its 
ghastliest  detail.  If  she  accepted  me,  I  would  begin  to 
work  in  earnest,  and  if  she  would  wait,  as  soon  as  I 
could  pay  my  debts,  I  would  be  ready;  if  not,  then — ! 
However,  I  walked  right  in  and  made  a  clean  breast  of 
it,  and  I  told  her  up  and  down  that  if  she  would  marry 
me  I  would  win.  I  shall  never  forget  the  picture  as  she 
stood  by  the  heavy  marble  mantel  in  her  father's  rich 
drawing-room,  tall  and  uncompromising  and  very  hand 
some.  She  might  have  been  marble  herself,  like  the 
mantel,  she  was  so  cold,  and  I,  suddenly  aroused  by  the 
shock,  was  on  fire  with  resolve  and  fierce  hunger  for 

52 


THE  METEOR 

sympathy.  She  did  not  hesitate  a  moment;  and  I 
walked  out.  She  had  given  me  a  deep  wound.  I  saw 
the  sun  rise  in  the  streets. 

Within  two  weeks  I  had  made  all  my  arrangements; 
had  closed  up  my  affairs;  given  up  everything  in  the 
world  I  had;  executed  my  notes  to  my  creditors  and  told 
them  they  were  not  worth  a  cent  unless  I  lived,  in  which 
case  they  would  be  worth  principal  and  interest;  sold 
my  law  books  to  Peck  for  a  price  which  made  his  eyes 
glisten,  had  given  him  my  office  for  the  unexpired  term, 
and  was  gone  to  the  West. 

The  night  before  I  left  I  called  to  see  the  young 
lady  again — a  piece  of  weakness.  But  I  hated  to 
give  up. 

She  looked  unusually  handsome. 

I  believe  if  she  had  said  a  word  or  had  looked  sweet 
at  me  I  might  have  stayed,  and  I  know  I  should  have 
remained  in  love  with  her.  But  she  did  neither.  When 
I  told  her  I  was  going  away,  she  said,  "Where  ?"  That 
was  every  word — in  just  such  a  tone  as  if  she  had  met 
me  on  the  corner,  and  I  had  said  I  was  going  to  walk. 
She  was  standing  by  the  mantel  with  her  shapely  arm. 
resting  lightly  on  the  marble.  I  said,  "  God  only  knows, 
but  somewhere  far  enough  away." 

"When  are  you  coming  back?" 

"Never." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  she  said  coolly,  arranging  a 
bracelet,  so  coolly  that  it  stung  me  like  a  serpent  and 
brought  me  on  my  feet. 

"  I'll  be— !     No,  I  will  not,"  I  said.    "Good-by." 
53 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Good-by."  She  gave  me  her  hand  and  it  was  as 
cool  as  her  voice. 

"  Good-by."  And  mine  was  as  cold  as  if  I  were  dead. 
I  swear,  I  believe  sometimes  I  did  die  right  there  before 
her  and  that  a  new  man  took  my  place  within  me.  At 
any  rate  my  love  for  her  died,  slain  by  the  ice  in  her 
heart ;  and  the  foolish  fribble  I  was  passed  into  a  man 
of  resolution. 

As  I  walked  out  of  her  gate,  I  met  Peck  going  in,  and 
I  did  not  care.  I  did  not  even  hate  him.  I  remember 
that  his  collar  was  up  to  his  ears.  I  heard  afterward 
that  she  accepted  him  that  same  week.  For  some  in 
explicable  reason  I  thought  of  John  Marvel  as  I 
walked  home.  I  suddenly  appeared  nearer  to  him 
than  I  had  done  since  I  left  college,  and  I  regretted 
not  having  answered  his  simple,  affectionate  letters. 

I  started  West  that  night. 


54 


VII 

THE  HEGIRA 

In  my  manage  was  a  bull-terrier  puppy — brindled, 
bow-legged  and  bold — at  least,  Jeams  declared  Dix  to 
be  a  bull-pup  of  purest  blood  when  he  sold  him  to  me 
for  five  dollars  and  a  suit  of  clothes  that  had  cost  sixty. 
I  found  later  that  he  had  given  a  quarter  for  him  to  a 
negro  stable-boy  who  had  been  sent  to  dispose  of  him. 
Like  the  American  people,  he  was  of  many  strains;  but, 
like  the  American  people,  he  proved  to  have  good  stuff 
in  him,  and  he  had  the  soul  of  a  lion.  One  eye  was 
bleared,  a  memento  of  some  early  and  indiscreet  inso 
lence  to  some  decisive-clawed  cat;  his  ears  had  been 
crookedly  clipped  and  one  perked  out,  the  other  in,  and 
his  tail  had  been  badly  bobbed;  but  was  as  expressive 
as  the  immortal  Rab's  eloquent  stump.  He  feared  and 
followed  Jeams,  but  he  adored  me.  And  to  be  adored 
by  woman  or  dog  is  something  for  any  man  to  show  at 
the  last  day.  To  lie  and  blink  at  me  by  the  hour  was 
his  chief  occupation.  To  crawl  up  and  lick  my  hand, 
or  failing  that,  my  boot,  was  his  heaven. 

I  always  felt  that,  with  all  my  faults,  which  none  knew 
like  myself,  there  must  be  some  basic  good  in  me  to  in 
spire  so  devoted  a  love. 

When  I  determined  to  leave  for  the  West  the  night  of 
my  final  break  with  Lilian  Poole,  in  my  selfishness  I 

55 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

forgot  Dix;  but  when  I  reached  home  that  night,  sobered 
and  solitary,  there  was  Dix  with  his  earnest,  adoring 
gaze,  his  shrewd  eye  fixed  on  me,  and  his  friendly  twist 
of  the  back.  His  joy  at  my  mere  presence  consoled  me 
and  gave  me  spirit,  though  it  did  not  affect  my  decision. 
Jeams,  who  had  followed  me  from  college,  at  times 
hung  around  my  office,  carried  Miss  Poole  my  notes 
and  flowers  and,  in  the  hour  of  my  prosperity,  blossomed 
out  in  a  gorgeousness  of  apparel  that  partly  accounted 
for  my  heavy  expense  account,  as  well  as  for  the  rapid 
disappearance  of  the  little  private  stock  I  occasionally 
kept  or  tried  to  keep  in  a  deceptive-looking  desk  which 
I  used  as  a  sideboard  for  myself  and  friends.  He  usu 
ally  wore  an  old  suit  of  mine,  in  which  he  looked  sur 
prisingly  well,  but  on  occasions  he  wore  a  long-tailed 
coat,  a  red  necktie  and  a  large  soft,  light  hat  which, 
cocked  on  the  side  of  his  head,  gave  him  the  air  of  an 
Indian  potentate.  I  think  he  considered  himself  in 
some  sort  a  partner.  He  always  referred  to  me  and  my 
business  as  "us"  and  "our"  business,  and,  on  some 
one's  asking  him  derisively  if  he  were  a  partner  of  mine, 
he  replied,  "Oh,  no,  sir,  only  what  you  might  term  a 
minor  connectee  of  the  Captain."  He  was,  however,  a 
very  useful  fellow,  being  ready  to  do  anything  in  the 
world  I  ordered,  except  when  he  was  tight  or  had  some 
piece  of  rascality  on  foot — occasions  by  no  means  rare. 
He  wore,  at  election  time,  a  large  and  flaming  badge 
announcing  that  he  was  something  in  his  party — the 
opposite  party  to  mine;  but  I  have  reason  to  believe  that 
when  I  was  in  politics  he  perjured  himself  freely  and 

56   ' 


THE  HEGIRA 

committed  other  crimes  against  the  purity  of  the  ballot 
on  which  economists  declare  all  Representative  Govern 
ment  is  founded.  One  of  my  ardent  friends  once  in 
formed  me  that  he  thought  I  ought  not  to  allow  Jeams 
to  wear  that  badge — it  was  insulting  me  openly.  I  told 
him  that  he  was  a  fool,  that  I  was  so  afraid  Jeams  would 
insist  on  my  wearing  one,  too,  I  was  quite  willing  to 
compromise.  In  fact,  I  had  gotten  rather  dependent  on 
him.  Then  he  and  I  held  such  identical  views  as  to 
Peck,  not  to  mention  some  other  mutual  acquaintances, 
and  Jeams  could  show  his  contempt  in  such  delightfully 
insolent  ways. 

I  had  intimated  to  Jeams  some  time  before,  imme 
diately  after  my  first  serious  reverse  in  the  stock  market, 
that  I  was  no  longer  as  flush  as  I  had  been,  and  that  un 
less  affairs  looked  up  I  might  move  on  to  fresh  pastures 
— or,  possibly,  I  put  it,  to  a  wider  field  for  the  exercise 
of  my  powers;  whereupon  he  promptly  indicated  his  in 
tention  to  accompany  me  and  share  my  fortune.  But  I 
must  say,  he  showed  plainly  his  belief  that  it  was  a  richer 
pasture  which  I  was  contemplating  moving  into,  and  he 
viewed  the  prospect  with  a  satisfaction  much  like  that 
of  a  cat  which,  in  the  act  of  lapping  milk,  has  cream  set 
before  it.  The  only  thing  that  puzzled  him  was  that  he 
could  not  understand  why  I  wanted  more  than  I  had. 
He  said  so  plainly. 

"  What  you  want  to  go  'way  for,  Cap'n  ?  Whyn't  you 
stay  where  you  is  ?  You  done  beat  'em  all — evy  one  of 
'em " 

"Oh!  no,  I  haven't." 

57 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"  Go  'way  f'om  here — you  is  an'  you  know  you  is — • 
d  that's  the  reason  you  carry  yo'  head  so  high."  (He 
little  knew  the  true  reason.)  "An'  if  you  hadn't,  all  you 
got  to  do  is  to  walk  in  yonder — up  yonder  (with  a  toss 
of  his  head  in  the  direction  of  Miss  Poole's  home),  an' 
hang  up  your  hat,  and  den  you  ain  got  nuthin'  to  do 
but  jus'  write  yo'  checks." 

I  laughed  at  Jeams's  idea  of  the  situation,  and  of  old 
Poole's  son-in-law's  position.  But  it  was  rather  a  bit 
terer  laugh  than  he  suspected.  To  soothe  my  conscience 
and  also  to  draw  him  out,  I  said,  though  I  did  not  then 
really  think  it  possible: 

"Why,  she's  going  to  marry  Peck." 

Jeams  turned  around  and  actually  spat  out  his  dis 
gust. 

"What,  dthat  man!"  Then,  as  he  looked  at  me  to 
assure  himself  that  I  was  jesting,  and  finding  a  shade 
less  amusement  in  my  countenance  than  he  had  ex 
pected,  he  uttered  a  wise  speech. 

"Well,  I  tell  you,  Cap'n — if  dthat  man  gits  her  he 
ought  to  have  her,  'cause  he  done  win  her  an'  you  ain't 
know  how  to  play  de  game.  You  done  discard  de 
wrong  card." 

I  acknowledged  in  my  heart  that  he  had  hit  the  mark, 
and  I  laughed  a  little  less  bitterly,  which  he  felt — as  did 
Dix,  lying  against  my  foot  which  he  suddenly  licked 
twice. 

"An'  I'll  tell  you  another  thing — you's  well  rid  of  her. 
Ef  she  likes  dthat  man  bes',  let  him  have  her,  and  you 
git  another  one.  Der's  plenty  mo/  jes'  as  good  and 

58 


THE  HEGIRA 

better,  too,  and  you'll  meek  her  sorry  some  day.  D that's 
de  way  I  does.  If  dey  wants  somebody  else,  I  let's  'em 
have  'em.  It's  better  to  let  'em  have  'em  befo'  than 
after." 

When  Jeams  walked  out  of  my  room,  he  had  on  a 
suit  which  I  had  not  had  three  months,  and  a  better 
suit  than  I  was  able  to  buy  again  in  as  many  years. 
But  he  had  paid  me  well  for  it.  I  had  in  mind  his  wise 
saying  when  I  faced  Lilian  Poole  without  a  cent  on 
earth,  with  all  gone  except  my  new-born  resolution  and 
offered  her  only  myself,  and  as  I  walked  out  of  her  gate 
I  consoled  myself  with  Jeams 's  wisdom. 

When  I  left  Miss  Poole  I  walked  straight  home,  and 
having  let  nobody  know,  I  spent  the  evening  packing 
up  and  destroying  old  letters  and  papers  and  odds  and 
ends;  among  them,  all  of  Lilian  Poole's  lettters  and 
other  trash.  At  first,  I  found  myself  tending  to  reading 
over  and  keeping  a  few  letters  and  knickknacks;  but  as  I 
glanced  over  the  letters  and  found  how  stiff,  measured, 
and  vacant  her  letters  were  as  compared  with  my  burn 
ing  epistles,  in  which  I  had  poured  out  my  heart,  my 
wrath  rose,  and  I  consigned  them  all  to  the  flames, 
whose  heat  was  the  only  warmth  they  had  ever  known. 

I  was  in  the  midst  of  this  sombre  occupation,  with  no 
companion  but  my  angry  reflections  and  no  witness  but 
Dix,  who  was  plainly  aware  that  something  unsuual  was 
going  on  and  showed  his  intense  anxiety,  in  the  only 
method  that  dull  humanity  has  yet  learned  to  catalogue 
as  Dog-talk:  by  moving  around,  wagging  his  stump  of  a 
twist-tail  and  making  odd,  uneasy  sounds  and  move- 

59 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ments.  His  evident  anxiety  about  me  presently  at 
tracted  my  attention,  and  I  began  to  think  what  I  should 
do  with  him.  I  knew  old  Mrs.  Upshur  would  take  and 
care  for  him  as  she  would  for  anything  of  mine;  but  Dix, 
though  the  best  tempered  of  canines,  had  his  standards, 
which  he  lived  up  to  like  a  gentleman,  and  he  brooked 
no  insolence  from  his  inferiors  or  equals  and  admitted 
no  superiors.  Moreover,  he  needed  out-door  exercise  as 
all  sound  creatures  do,  and  this  poor,  old  decrepit  Mrs. 
Upshur  could  not  give  him.  I  discarded  for  one  reason 
or  another  my  many  acquaintances,  and  gradually 
Jeams  took  precedence  in  my  mind  and  held  it  against 
all  reasoning.  He  was  drunken  and  worthless — he 
would  possibly,  at  times,  neglect  Dix,  and  at  others, 
would  certainly  testify  his  pride  in  him  and  prove  his 
confidence  by  making  him  fight;  but  he  adored  the  dog 
and  he  feared  me  somewhat.  As  I  wavered  there  was  a 
knock  and  Jeams  walked  in.  He  was  dressed  in  my 
long  frock  coat  and  his  large,  gray  hat  was  on  the  back 
of  his  head — a  sure  sign  that  he  was  tight,  even  had 
not  his  dishevelled  collar  and  necktie  and  his  perspiring 
countenance  given  evidence  of  his  condition.  As  he 
stood  in  the  door,  his  hand  went  up  to  his  hat;  but  at 
sight  of  the  room,  he  dropped  it  before  he  could  reach 
the  hat  and  simply  stared  at  me  in  blank  amazement. 

"  Hi !    What  you  doin'  ? ' '  he  stammered. 

"Packing  up." 

"Where  you  goin'?" 

"Going  away." 

"When  you  comin'  back?" 
60 


THE  HEGIRA 

"Never." 

"What!  Well,  damned  if  I  ain'  gwine  wid  you, 
then." 

The  tone  was  so  sincere  and  he  was  evidently  so  much 
in  earnest  that  a  lump  sprang  into  my  throat.  I  turned 
away  to  keep  him  from  seeing  that  I  was  moved,  and  it 
was  to  keep  him  still  from  finding  it  out,  that  I  turned 
on  him  with  well  feigned  savageness  as  he  entered  the 
room. 

"You  look  like  going  with  me,  don't  you!  You 
drunken  scoundrel!  Take  your  hat  off,  sir"— for  in  his 
confusion  he  had  wholly  forgotten  his  manners.  They 
now  came  back  to  him. 

"  Ixcuse  me— Cap'n "  (with  a  low  bow).  "  Ixcuse  me, 
suh.  I  al'ays  removes  my  hat  in  the  presence  of  the 
ladies  and  sech  distinguished  gent'mens  as  yourself,  suh; 
but,  Cap'n " 

"Drunken  rascal!"  I  muttered,  still  to  hide  my  feel 
ing. 

"Cap'n— I  ain'  drunk— I'll  swear  I  ain'  had  a  drink 
not  in — "  He  paused  for  an  appropriate  term  and  gave 
it  Up  « — Not  in — I'll  swear  on  a  stack  of  Bibles  as— 
as  high  as  Gen'l  Washin's  monument — you  bring  it 
heah— is  you  got  a  Bible?  You  smell  my  breath!" 

"Smell  your  breath!  I  can't  smell  anything  but  your 
breath.  Open  that  window!" 

"Yes,  suh,"  and  the  window  was  meanderingly  ap 
proached,  but  not  reached,  for  he  staggered  slightly  and 
caught  on  a  chair. 

"  Cap'n,  I  ain'  had  a  drink  for  a  year— I'll  swear  to 
61 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

dthat.  I'll  prove  it  to  you.  I  ain*  had  a  cent  to  buy 
one  wid  in  a  month — I  was  jus*  comin'  roun'  to  ast  you 
to  gi'  me  one — jus'  to  git  de  dust  out  o'  my  throat." 

"Dust!  Clean  those  things  up  there  and  get  some 
dust  in  your  throat." 

"Yes,  suh — yes,  suh — Cap'n" — insinuatingly,  as  his 
eye  fell  on  Dix,  who  was  standing  looking  attentively 
first  at  me  and  then  at  Jeams,  completely  mystified  by 
my  tone,  but  ready  to  take  a  hand  if  there  was  any  need 
for  him.  "Cap'n " 

"Well,  what  is  it?    What  do  you  want  now?" 

"WTill  you  lend  me  a  hundred?" 

"A  hundred  dollars?" 

"Yes,  suh — you  see " 

"  No.  I'll  give  you  a  hundred  licks  if  you  don't  get  to 
work  and  clean  up  that  floor." 

"Cap'n — yes,  suh — I'm  gwine  to  clean  't  up — but, 
Cap'n " 

"Well?" 

"I'll  let  you  in — jes'  len'  me  ten — or  five — or  jes'  one 
dollar — hit's  a  cinch — Lord!  I  can  meek  ten  for  one 
jist  as  easy — Dee  don'  know  him — Dee  think  he  ain' 
nuthing  but  a  cur  dawg — dats  what  I  told  'em.  And 
I'll  meek  you  all  de  money  in  the  worl' — I  will  dat." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Well,  you  see,  hits  dthis  away — I  wouldn't  bother 
you  if  dat  yaller  bar-keeper  nigger  hadn'  clean  me  up 

wid  them  d d  loaded  bones  of  hisn — jis'  stole  it 

from  me — yes,  suh — jis' " 

"Cleaned  you  up?    When?" 
62 


THE  HEGIRA 

"Dthis  very  evenin'— I  had  seventeen  dollars  right  in 
my  pocket,  heah.  You  ax  Mr.  Wills  if  I  didn't.  He 

seen  me  have  it — I  had  jes'  got  it,  too " 

"You  liar — you  just  now  told  me  you  hadn't  had  a 
cent  in  a  month,  and  now  you  say  you  had  seventeen 
dollars  this  evening."  Jeams  reared  himself  up. 

"I  toll  you  dthat?"  He  was  now  steadying  himself 
with  great  gravity  and  trying  to  keep  his  eyes  fixed  on 
me. 

"Yes." 

"  No,  sir.    I  never  toll  you  dthat  in  this  worl' !    'Cause 
'twould  a  been  a  lie— and  I  wouldn'  tell  you  a  lie  for 
nuthin'  on  earth — I  never  had  no  seventeen  dollars." 
"I  know  you  didn't— I  know  that's  true,  unless  you 

stole  it;  but  you  said " 

"No,  sir— what  I  said  was — dthat  if  you'd  len'  me 
seventeen  dollars  I'd  take  Dix  there  and  kill  any  dawg 
dthat  yaller  nigger  up  yonder  in  the  Raleigh  Hotel 
could  trot  out— I  didn'  keer  what  he  was— and  I  said 
I'd—give  you  a  hundred  dollars  out  of  the  skads  I 
picked  up— dthat's  what  I  said,  and  you  got  it  wrong." 
"You'll  do  what?" 

"You  see,  hit's  this  away— dthat  big-moufed,  corn- 
fed  yaller  nigger— he  was  allowin'  dthat  Mr.  Mulligan 
had  a  dawg  could  chaw  up  any  dawg  dis  side  o'  tor 
ment,  and  I  'lowed  him  a  ten  dthat  I  had  one  's  could 
lick  H— 1  out  o'  any  Mulligan  or  Mulligan's  dawg  top 
o'  groun'— 'n'  dthat  you'd  len'  me  th'  ten  to  put  up." 

"Well,  you've  lost  one  ten  anyway— I  won't  lend  you 
a  cent,  and  if  I  catch  you  fighting  Dix,  I'll  give  you  the 

63 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

worst  lambing  you  ever  had  since  Justice  John  had  you 
skinned  for  stealing  those  chickens." 

Jeams  threw  up  his  eyes  in  reprobation. 

"Now,  Cap'n — you  know  I  never  stole  dem  stags 
— dthat  old  jestice  he  jes'  sentenced  me  'cause  you  was 
my  counsel  an'  cause'  I  was  a  nigger  an'  he  had'n  had  a 
chance  at  me  befo'— I  bet  if  I'd  give'  him  half  de  money 
'sted  o'  payin'  you,  he'd  a'  let  me  off  mighty  quick4" 

"Pay  me!  you  never  paid  me  a  cent  in  your  life." 

"Well,  I  promised  to  pay  you,  didn'  I?  An'  ain't 
dthat  de  same  thin'?" 

"Not  by  a  big  sight " 

"Dthat's  de  way  gent'mens  does." 

"Oh!  do  they?" 

Jeams  came  back  to  the  main  theme. 

"Mr.  Hen,  ain'  you  gwine  let  me  have  dem  ten  dol 
lars,  sho'  'nough  ?  Hit's  jes'  like  pickin'  money  up  in  de 
road:  Dix  kin  kill  dat  dawg  befo'  you  ken  say  Jack 
Roberson." 

"Jeams,"  I  said,  "look  at  me!" 

"Yes,  suh,  I'm  lookin',"  and  he  was. 

"I  am  going  away  to-night " 

"Well,  I'm  gwine  width  you,  I  ain'  gwine  stay  heah 
by  myself  after  you  and  Dix  is  gone." 

"No,  you  can't  do  that.  I  don't  know  yet  exactly 
where  I  am  going,  I  have  not  yet  decided.  I  am  going 
West— to  a  big  city." 

"Dthat's  where  I  want  to  go — "  interrupted  Jeams. 

"And  when  I  get  settled  I'll  send  for  Dix — I'm  going 
to  leave  him  with  you." 

64 


THE  HEGIRA 

"Yes,  suh,  I'll  teck  keer  of  him  sure.  I'll  match  him 
against  any  dawg  in  dthis  town — he  can  kill  dthat  dawg 
of  dthat  yaller  nigger's— 

"No,  if  you  put  him  in  a  fight,  I'll  kill  you  the  first 
time  I  see  you — d'you  hear?" 

"Yes,  suh — I  ain'  gwine  put  him  in  no  fight.  But  ef 
he  gits  in  a  fight — you  know  he's  a  mighty  high-spirited 
dawg — he  don'  like  dawgs  to  come  nosin'  roun'  him. 
Hit  sort  o'  aggrivates  him.  An'  ef  he  should ?  " 

"I'll  whip  you  as  sure  as  you  live " 

"Jes'ef  he  should?" 

"Yes— if  you  let  him." 

"  No,  suh,  I  ain'  gwine  let  him.    You  lef  him  wid  me. " 

And  though  I  knew  that  he  was  lying,  I  was  content 
to  leave  the  dog  with  him;  for  I  was  obliged  to  leave  him 
with  someone,  and  I  knew  he  loved  this  dog  and  hoped 
my  threat  would,  at  least,  keep  him  from  anything  that 
might  hurt  him. 

I  drifted  out  to  the  Club  later  and  casually  dropped 
the  information  that  I  was  going  away.  I  do  not  think 
it  made  much  impression  on  my  friends  there — in  fact, 
I  hardly  think  they  took  the  information  seriously. 
They  were  a  kindly  lot,  but  took  life  and  me  lightly. 

When  I  left  town  at  midnight,  the  rain  was  pouring 
dovvn  and  there  was  no  one  at  the  dreary  station  to  see 
me  off  but  Jeams  and  Dix,  and  as  the  train  pulled  out  I 
stood  on  the  platform  to  say  good-by  to  Jeams,  who  was 
waving  his  right  hand  sadly,  while  with  the  other  he 
gripped  the  collar  of  the  dejected  Dix  who,  with  his  eyes 
on  me,  struggled  spasmodically  and  viciously. 

65 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Suddenly  Dix  turned  on  his  captor  with  a  snarl  and 
snap  which  startled  Jeams  so  that  he  let  him  go,  then 
whirling  about,  he  tore  after  the  train  which  was  just 
beginning  to  quicken  its  speed.  He  had  to  rush  over 
ties  and  switch-rods,  but  he  caught  up  and  made  a 
spring  for  the  step.  He  made  good  his  footing,  but 
Jeams  was  running  and  waving  wildly  and,  with  his 
voice  in  my  ears,  I  pushed  the  dog  off  with  rny  foot  and 
saw  him  roll  over  between  the  tracks.  Nothing 
daunted,  however,  he  picked  himself  up,  and  with 
another  rush,  sprang  again  for  the  step.  This  time 
only  his  forefeet  caught  and  he  hung  on  by  them  for 
a  second,  then  began  to  slip — inch  by  inch  he  was 
slipping  off  as  I  stood  watching  him,  when,  under  an 
impulse,  fearing  that  he  might  be  killed,  I  hastily, 
and  with  a  sudden  something  in  my  throat,  reached 
down  and  caught  him  just  in  time  to  pull  him  up, 
and  taking  him  in  my  arms  I  bore  him  into  the  car. 
I  confess  that,  as  I  felt  him  licking  my  hands,  a 
warmer  feeling  than  I  had  had  for  some  time  came 
around  my  heart  which  had  been  like  a  lump  of  ice 
during  these  last  days,  and  I  was  glad  no  one  was  near 
by  who  knew  me.  I  made  up  my  mind  that,  come  what 
might,  I  would  hold  on  to  my  one  faithful  friend. 


VIII 

PADAN-ARAM 

I  first  went  to  the  town  in  which  lived  the  relative, 
the  cousin  of  my  father's  whom  I  have  mentioned.  It 
was  a  bustling,  busy  city  and  he  was  reputed  the  head 
of  the  Bar  in  his  State— a  man  of  large  interests  and 
influence.  I  knew  my  father's  regard  for  him.  I  think 
it  was  this  and  his  promise  about  me  that  made  me  go 
to  him  now.  I  thought  he  might  help  me,  at  least  with 
advice;  for  I  had  his  name. 

I  left  my  trunk  and  Dix  at  the  hotel  and  called  on  him 
at  his  large  office.  In  my  loneliness,  I  was  full  of  a 
new-born  feeling  of  affection  for  this  sole  kinsman.  I 
thought,  perhaps,  he  might  possibly  even  make  me  an 
offer  to  remain  with  him  and  eventually  succeed  to  his 
practice.  I  had  not  seen  him  two  seconds,  however, 
before  I  knew  this  was  folly.  When  I  had  sent  in  my 
name  by  an  obtrusive-eyed  office-boy,  I  was  kept  waiting 
for  some  time  in  the  outer  office  where  the  office-boy 
loudly  munched  an  apple,  and  a  couple  of  clerks 
whispered  to  each  other  with  their  eyes  on  the  private 
office-door.  And  when  I  was  ushered  in,  he  gave  me  a 
single  keen  look  as  I  entered  and  went  on  writing  with 
out  asking  me  to  sit  down,  and  I  would  not  sit  without 
an  invitation.  When  he  had  finished  he  looked  up,  and 
nodded  his  head  with  a  sort  of  jerk  toward  a  chair.  He 

67 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

was  a  large  man  with  a  large  head,  short  gray  hair,  a 
strong  nose,  a  heavy  chin,  and  gray  eyes  close  together, 
without  the  kindliness  either  of  age  or  of  youth.  I 
took  a  step  toward  him  and  in  some  embarrassment 
began  to  speak  rapidly.  I  called  him  "Cousin,"  for 
blood  had  always  counted  for  a  great  deal  with  us,  and 
I  had  often  heard  my  father  speak  of  him  with  pride. 
But  his  sharp  look  stopped  me. 

"Take  a  seat,"  he  said,  more  in  a  tone  of  command 
than  of  invitation,  and  called  me  "Mister."  It  was 
like  plunging  me  into  a  colder  atmosphere.  I  did  not 
sit  down,  but  I  was  so  far  into  my  sentence  I  could  not 
well  stop.  So  I  went  on  and  asked  him  what  he  thought 
of  my  settling  there,  growing  more  and  more  embar 
rassed  and  hot  with  every  word. 

"Have  you  any  money?"  he  asked  shortly. 

"Not  a  cent." 

"Well,  I  have  none  to  lend  you.  You  need  not  count 
on  me.  I  would  advise—  But  I  did  not  wait  for  him 
to  finish.  I  had  got  hold  of  myself  and  was  self-pos 
sessed  enough  now. 

"I  did  not  ask  you  to  lend  me  any  money,  either," 
I  said,  straightening  myself  up.  "I  did  ask  you  to  give 
me  some  advice;  but  now  I  do  not  want  that  or  any 
thing  else  you  have,  d n  you !  I  made  a  mistake  in 

coming  to  you,  for  I  am  abundantly  able  to  take  care  of 
myself." 

Of  course,  I  know  now  that  he  had  something  on  his 
side.  He  supposed  me  a  weak,  worthless  dog,  if  not 
a  "dead-beat,"  But  I  was  so  angry  with  him  I  could 

68 


PADAN-ARAM 

not  help  saying  what  I  did.  I  stalked  out  and  slammed 
the  door  behind  me  with  a  bang  that  made  the  glass 
in  the  sash  rattle;  and  the  two  or  three  young  men,  busy 
in  the  outer  office,  looked  up  in  wonder.  I  went  straight 
to  the  hotel  and  took  the  train  to  the  biggest  city  my 
money  would  get  me  to.  I  thought  a  big  city  offered 
the  best  chances  for  me,  and,  at  least,  would  hide  me. 
I  think  the  fact  that  I  had  once  written  a  brief  for  Mr. 
Poole  in  the  matter  of  his  interest  in  car  lines  there 
influenced  me  in  my  selection. 

I  travelled  that  night  and  the  next  day  and  the  night 
following,  and  partly  because  my  money  was  running 
low  and  partly  on  Dix's  account,  I  rode  in  a  day-coach. 
The  first  night  and  day  passed  well  enough,  but  the 
second  night  I  was  tired  and  dusty  and  lonely. 

On  the  train  that  night  I  spent  some  serious  hours. 
Disappointment  is  the  mother  of  depression  and  the 
grandmother  of  reflection.  I  took  stock  of  myself  and 
tried  to  peer  into  the  dim  and  misty  future,  and  it  was 
gloomy  work.  Only  one  who  has  started  out  with  the 
world  in  fee,  and  after  throwing  it  away  in  sheer  reckless 
ness  of  folly,  suddenly  hauls  up  to  find  himself  bank 
rupt  of  all  he  had  spurned  in  his  pride:  a  homeless 
and  friendless  wanderer  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
may  imagine  what  I  went  through.  I  learned  that 
night  what  the  exile  feels;  I  dimly  felt  what  the  outcast 
experiences.  And  I  was  sensible  that  I  had  brought  it 
all  on  myself.  I  had  wantonly  wasted  all  my  substance 
in  riotous  living  and  I  had  no  father  to  return  to — 
nothing,  not  even  swine  to  keep  in  a  strange  land.  I 

69 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

faced  myself  on  the  train  that  night,  and  the  effigy  I 
gazed  on  I  admitted  to  be  a  fool. 

The  train,  stuffy  and  hot,  lagged  and  jolted  and 
stopped,  and  still  I  was  conscious  of  only  that  soul- 
shifting  process  of  self-facing.  The  image  of  Peck,  the 
tortoise,  haunted  me.  At  times  I  dozed  or  even  slept 
very  soundly;  though  doubled  up  like  a  jack-knife,  as 
I  was,  I  could  not  efface  myself  even  in  my  sleep.  But 
when  I  waked,  there  was  still  myself — grim,  lonely, 
homeless — haunting  me  like  a  stabbed  corpse  chained 
to  my  side. 

I  was  recalled  to  myself  at  last  by  the  whimpering 
of  children  packed  in  a  seat  across  the  aisle  from  me. 
They  had  all  piled  in  together  the  first  night  somewhere 
with  much  excitement.  They  were  now  hungry  and 
frowsy  and  wretched.  There  were  five  of  them,  red- 
cheeked  and  dirty;  complaining  to  their  mother  who, 
worn  and  bedraggled  herself,  yet  never  lost  patience 
with  one  or  raised  her  voice  above  the  soothing  pitch 
in  all  her  consoling. 

At  first  I  was  annoyed  by  them ;  then  I  was  amused ; 
then  I  wondered  at  her,  and  at  last,  I  almost  envied 
her,  so  lonely  was  I  and  so  content  was  she  with  her 
little  brood. 

Hitched  on  to  the  train  the  second  night  was  a  private 
car,  said  to  be  that  of  someone  connected  with  a  vice- 
president  of  the  road.  The  name  of  the  official,  which 
I  learned  later,  was  the  same  as  that  of  an  old  college 
friend  of  my  father's,  and  I  had  often  heard  my  father 
mention  him  as  his  successful  rival  with  his  first  sweet- 

70 


PADAN-ARAM 

heart,  and  he  used  to  tease  my  mother  by  recalling  the 
charms  of  Kitty  MacKenzie,  the  young  lady  in  question, 
whose  red  golden  hair  he  declared  the  most  beautiful 
hair  that  ever  crowned  a  mortal  head — while  my 
mother,  I  remember,  insisted  that  her  hair  was  merely 
carroty,  and  that  her  beauty,  though  undeniable,  was 
distinctly  of  the  milkmaid  order — a  shaft  which  was 
will  aimed,  for  my  mother's  beauty  was  of  the  delicate, 
aristocratic  type.  The  fact  was  that  Mr.  Leigh  had 
been  a  suitor  of  hers  before  my  father  met  her,  and 
having  been  discarded  by  her,  had  consoled  himself 
with  the  pretty  girl,  to  whom  my  father  had  been  atten 
tive  before  he  met  and  fell  "head  over  heels  in  love" 
with  a  new  star  at  a  college  ball. 

Mr.  Leigh,  I  knew,  had  gone  West,  and  grown  up 
to  be  a  banker,  and  I  wondered  vaguely  if  by  any  chance 
he  could  be  the  same  person. 

The  train  should  have  reached  my  destination  in  time 
for  breakfast,  and  we  had  all  looked  forward  to  it  and 
made  our  arrangements  accordingly.  The  engine, 
however,  which  had  been  put  on  somewhere  during  the 
night,  had  "given  out,"  and  we  were  not  only  some 
hours  late,  but  were  no  longer  able  to  keep  steadily  even 
the  snail's  pace  at  which  we  had  been  crawling  all  night. 
The  final  stop  came  on  a  long  upgrade  in  a  stretch  of 
broken  country  sparsely  settled,  and  though  once  heavily 
wooded,  now  almost  denuded.  Here  the  engine,  after 
a  last  futile,  gasping  effort,  finally  gave  up,  and  the 
engineer  descended  for  the  dozenth  time  to  see  "what 
he  could  do  about  it."  To  make  matters  worse,  the 

71 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

water  in  our  car  had  given  out,  and  though  we  had  been 
passing  streams  a  little  before,  there  was  no  water  in 
sight  where  we  stopped.  It  soon  became  known  that 
we  should  have  to  wait  until  a  brakeman  could  walk 
to  the  nearest  telegraph  station,  miles  off,  and  have 
another  engine  despatched  to  our  aid  from  a  town 
thirty  or  more  miles  away.  So  long  as  there  had  been 
hope  of  keeping  on,  however  faint,  there  had  been 
measurable  content,  and  the  grumbling  which  had  been 
heard  at  intervals  all  the  latter  part  of  the  night  had 
been  sporadic  and  subdued;  but  now,  when  the  last 
hope  was  gone,  and  it  was  known  that  we  were  at  last 
"stuck"  for  good,  there  was  an  outbreak  of  ill-humor 
from  the  men,  though  the  women  in  the  car  still  kept 
silent,  partly  subdued  by  their  dishevelled  condition 
and  partly  because  they  were  content  for  once,  while 
listening  to  the  men.  Now  and  then  a  man  who  had 
been  forward  would  come  back  into  the  car,  and 
address  someone  present,  or  speak  to  the  entire  car, 
and  in  the  silence  that  fell  every  one  listened  until  he 
had  delivered  himself.  But  no  one  had  yet  given  a 
satisfactory  explanation  of  the  delay. 

At  last,  a  man  who  sat  near  me  gave  an  explanation. 
"The  engine  lost  time  because  it  had  too  heavy  a  load. 
It's  a  heavy  train,  anyway,  and  they  put  a  private  car 
on  and  the  engine  could  not  pull  it,  that's  all  that's  the 
matter."  He  spoke  with  the  finality  of  a  judge,  and  sat 
back  in  his  seat,  and  we  all  knew  that  he  had  hit  the 
mark,  and  given  the  true  cause.  Henceforward  he 
was  regarded  with  respect.  He  really  knew  things. 

72 


PADAN-ARAM 

I  insensibly  took  note  of  him.  He  was  a  middle-sized, 
plain-looking  man  with  bright  eyes  and  a  firm  mouth. 
Whether  by  a  coincidence  or  not,  just  at  that  moment 
something  appeared  to  have  given  way  in  the  car: 
babies  began  to  cry;  children  to  fret,  and  the  elders  to 
fume  and  grumble.  In  a  short  time  every  one  in  the 
car  was  abusing  the  railroad  and  its  management. 
Their  inconsiderateness,  their  indifference  to  the  com 
fort  of  their  passengers. 

"They  pay  no  more  attention  to  us  and  take  no 
more  care  of  us  than  if  we  were  so  many  cattle," 
growled  a  man.  "I  couldn't  get  a  single  berth  last 
night."  He  was  a  big,  sour-looking  fellow,  who  wore 
patent-leather  shoes  on  his  large  feet,  and  a  silk  hat,  now 
much  rubbed — and  a  dirty  silk  handkerchief  was  tucked 
in  his  soiled  collar,  and  in  his  soiled  shirt  front  showed 
a  supposititious  diamond.  He  was,  as  I  learned  later, 
named  Wringman,  and  was  a  labor-leader  of  some  note. 

"Not  as  much  as  of  cattle— for,  at  least,  they  water 
them,"  said  another,  "they  care  nothing  about  our 
comfort." 

"Unless  they  ride  in  a  Pullman,"  interjected  the  man 
near  me,  who  had  explained  the  situation. 

The  woman  with  the  five  children  suddenly  turned. 
"And  that's  true,  too,"  she  said,  with  a  glance  of  ap 
preciation  at  him  and  a  sudden  flash  of  hate  at  the 
big  man  with  the  diamond.  Off  and  on  all  night 
the  children  had,  between  naps,  begged  for  water,  and 
the  mother  had  trudged  back  and  forth  with  the  patience 
of  an  Egyptian  water-carrier,  but  now  the  water  had 

73 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

given  out,  and  the  younger  ones  had  been  whimpering 
because  they  were  hungry. 

I  went  forward,  and  about  the  engine,  where  I  stood 
for  a  time,  looking  on  while  we  waited,  I  heard  further 
criticism  of  the  road,  but  along  a  different  line,  from  the 
trainmen : 

"Well,  I'll  have  to  stand  it,"  said  one  of  them,  the 
engineer,  a  man  past  middle-age.  "No  more  strikes 
for  me.  That  one  on  the  C.  B.  and  B.  D.  taught  me 
a  lesson.  I  was  pretty  well  fixed  then — had  a  nice 
house  and  lot  'most  paid  for  in  the  Building  Company, 
and  the  furniture  all  paid  for,  except  a  few  instal 
ments,  and  it  all  went.  I  thought  we'd  'a'  starved 
that  winter — and  my  wife's  been  sick  ever  since." 

"I  know,"  said  his  friend,  "but  if  they  cut  down 
we've  got  to  fight.  I'm  willin'  to  starve  to  beat  'em." 

"You  may  be;  but  you  ain't  got  little  children  and  a 
sick  wife." 

A  little  later  I  saw  the  flashily  dressed  man  with  the 
dirty  handkerchief  talking  to  him,  and  insisting  that 
they  should  fight  the  company:  "We'll  bring  'em 
to  their  knees,"  he  said,  with  many  oaths.  The  engineer 
kept  silence,  the  younger  man  assented  warmly. 

I  went  back  to  my  car.  Presently  matters  grew  so 
bad  in  the  car  that  my  sympathies  for  the  children  were 
aroused,  and  I  determined  to  see  if  I  could  not  ameliorate 
the  conditions  somewhat.  I  went  back  to  the  Pullman 
car  to  see  if  there  was  any  chance  of  buying  some  food : 
but  the  haggard  looking  porter  said  there  was  nothing 
on  the  car.  "They  usually  go  in  to  breakfast,"  he 

74 


PADAN-ARAM 

explained.  My  only  chance  would  be  the  private  car 
behind.  So,  after  I  had  been  forward  and  ascertained 
that  we  would  not  get  away  for  at  least  an  hour 
more,  I  went  back  and  offered  to  look  after  the  older 
children  of  the  little  family.  "  I  am  going  to  take 
my  dog  for  a  run;  I'll  take  the  little  folks  too."  The 
mother  with  a  baby  in  her  arms  and  a  child,  hardly  more 
than  a  baby,  tugging  at  her,  looked  unutterably  tired, 
and  was  most  grateful  to  me.  I  took  the  older  children 
and  went  down  the  bank,  and  turning  back,  began  to 
pick  the  straggling  wild  flowers  beside  the  track.  As 
we  passed  the  private  car,  the  door  opened,  and  the 
cook  tossed  a  waiterful  of  scraps  out  on  the  ground  on 
which  both  Dixie  and  the  children  threw  themselves. 
But,  though  there  was  plenty  of  bread,  it  had  all  been 
ruined  by  being  in  the  slop- water;  so  Dixie  was  soon 
left  in  undisturbed  possession. 

A  little  beyond  the  end  of  the  train  we  came  on  a 
young  girl  engaged  in  the  same  occupation  as  ourselves. 
Her  back  was  toward  us,  but  her  figure  was  straight 
and  supple,  and  her  motions  easy  and  full  of  spring. 
The  sight  of  the  young  lady  so  fresh  and  cool,  with  the 
morning  sun  shining  on  a  thick  coil  of  shining  hair,  quite 
revived  me.  I  drew  near  to  get  a  good  look  at  her  and 
also  to  be  within  shot  of  a  chance  to  speak  to  her  should 
opportunity  offer.  If  I  were  a  novelist  trying  to  de 
scribe  her  I  should  say  that  she  was  standing  just  at 
the  foot  of  a  bank  with  a  clump  of  green  bushes  behind 
her,  her  arms  full  of  flowers  which  she  had  gathered. 
For  all  these  were  there,  and  might  have  been  created 

75 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

there  for  her,  so  harmonious  were  they  with  the  fresh 
young  face  above  them  and  the  pliant  form  which 
clasped  them.  I  might  further  have  likened  her  to 
Proserpine  with  her  young  arms  full  of  blossoms  from 
Sicilian  meads;  for  she  resembled  her  in  other  ways 
than  in  embracing  flowers  and  breathing  fragrance  as 
she  stood  in  the  morning  light.  But  truth  to  tell,  it 
was  only  later  that  I  thought  of  these.  The  first  im 
pression  I  received,  as  it  will  be  the  last,  was  of  her  eyes. 
Dimples,  and  snow-white  teeth;  changing  expression 
where  light  and  shadow  played,  with  every  varying 
feeling,  and  where  color  came  and  went  like  roses 
thrown  on  lilies,  and  lilies  on  roses,  all  came  to  me  later 
on.  But  that  was  in  another  phase.  Her  eyes  were 
what  I  saw  at  first,  and  never  since  have  I  seen  the 
morning  or  the  evening  star  swimming  in  rosy  light  but 
they  have  come  back  to  me.  I  remember  I  wore  a 
blue  suit  and  had  on  an  old  yachting  cap,  which  I  had 
gotten  once  when  on  a  short  cruise  with  a  friend.  I  was 
feeling  quite  pleased  with  myself.  She  suddenly  turned. 

"Are  you  the  brakeman?" 

"  No,  I  am  not."  I  could  scarcely  help  laughing  at  my 
sudden  fall.  "But  perhaps  I  can  serve  you ?"  I  added. 

"Oh!  I  beg  pardon!  No,  I  thank  you.  I  only 
wanted  to  ask —  However,  it  is  nothing." 

Dix  had,  on  being  let  out,  and  satisfying  himself 
that  I  was  coming  along,  made  a  wild  dash  down  the 
bank  and  alongside  the  train,  and  now  on  his  return 
rush,  catching  sight  of  the  young  lady  in  her  fresh  frock, 
without  waiting  for  the  formality  of  an  introduction, 

76 


PADAN-ARAM 

he  made  a  dash  for  her  and  sprang  up  on  her  as  if  he 
had  known  her  all  his  life.  I  called  to  him,  but  it  was 
too  late,  and  before  I  could  stop  him,  he  was  up  telling 
her  what  after  my  first  look  at  her  I  should  have  liked 
to  tell  her  myself:  what  a  sweet  charming  creature  we 
thought  her. 

Dixie  had  no  scruples  of  false  pride  inculcated  by  a 
foolish  convention  of  so-called  society.  He  liked  her  and 
said  so,  and  she  liked  him  for  it,  while  I  was  glad  to  shine 
for  a  moment  in  the  reflected  glory  of  being  his  master. 

"What  a  fine  dog!"  she  exclaimed  as  she  patted  him, 
addressing  the  children,  who,  with  soiled  clothes  and 
tousled  heads,  were  gazing  at  the  spick-and-span  appari 
tion  in  open-mouthed  wonder.  "How  I  envy  you  such 
a  dog." 

"He  ain't  ours,  he  belongs  to  him,"  said  the  child, 
pointing  to  me,  as  I  stooped  at  a  little  distance  pretend 
ing  to  pull  blossoms  while  I  listened. 

"Oh!  Who  is  he?  Is  he  your  father?"  My  face 
was  averted. 

"Oh!   no.     We  don't  know  who  he  is;  he  just  took 


us  so." 


"Took  you  so?" 

**  You  see,"  explained  the  next  older  one,  "our  mother, 
she's  got  the  baby  and  Janet,  and  the  gentleman,  he 
said  he  would  take  us  and  get  some  wild  flowers,  be 
cause  we  hadn't  had  any  breakfast,  and  that  dog"-— 
But  the  dog  was  forgotten  on  the  instant. 

"Have  not  had  any  breakfast!"  exclaimed  the  young 
lady  with  astonishment. 

77 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"No;  you  see,  we  had  some  bread  last  night,  but 
that's  given  out.  She  ate  the  last  piece  last  night — " 
(she  pointed  at  the  smallest  child) — "and  we  were  so 
hungry;  she  cried,  and  Mamma  cried,  and  that  gentle 
man " 

By  this  time  I  had  turned  and  I  now  stepped  forward. 
I  confess,  that  as  I  turned,  wrath  was  in  my  heart,  but 
at  sight  of  that  horrified  face,  in  its  sympathy,  my  anger 
died  away. 

"Oh!  and  to  think  what  I  wasted!  How  did  it 
happen?" 

"The  train  was  late  and  they  had  expected  to  get  in  to 
breakfast,  but  the  engine  gave  out,"  I  explained. 

"And  they  have  not  had  any  breakfast?" 

"No  one  on  the  train." 

"You  see,"  chimed  in  the  oldest  girl,  glad  to  be  able 
to  add  information,  "the  train's  heavy  anyway,  and  they 
put  a  private  car  on,  and  it  was  more  than  the  engine 
could  pull,  that's  all  that's  the  matter." 

The  young  lady  turned  to  me: 

"Do  you  mean  that  our  car  has  caused  all  this 
trouble?" 

I  nodded.     "I  don't  know  about  'all/  but  it  helped." 

"You  poor  little  dears!"  she  said,  rushing  to  the 
children,  "come  with  me."  And,  taking  the  youngest 
child  by  the  hand,  she  hurried  to  the  rear  steps  of  the 
car,  with  the  others  close  behind,  while  Dixie,  who 
appeared  to  know  what  was  in  store,  walked  close 
beside  her  knee,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Don't  leave  me 
out." 

78 


PADAN-ARAM 

As  the  train  stood  on  an  embankment,  the  step  was 
too  high  for  her  to  climb  up,  so  I  offered  to  put  the 
children  up  on  the  top  step  for  her.  Then  came  the 
difficulty  of  her  getting  up  herself.  She  called  the 
porter,  but  the  door  was  shut  and  there  was  no  answer. 

"Let  me  help  you  up,  too,"  I  said.  "Here,  you  can 
reach  the  rail,  and  step  in  my  hand  and  spring  up.  I 
can  help  you  perfectly  well — as  though  you  were  mount 
ing  a  horse,"  I  added,  seeing  her  hesitate.  And,  without 
giving  her  time  to  think,  I  stooped  and  lifted  her  to  the 
step.  As  she  sprang  up,  the  door  opened,  and  a  portly 
lady,  richly  dressed  and  with  several  diamond  rings  on, 
came  out  on  the  platform.  She  gazed  on  the  little 
group  with  astonishment. 

"Why,  Eleanor,  what  is  this?    Who  are  these?" 

"They  are  some  poor  children,  Aunt,  who  have  had 
no  breakfast,  and  I  am  going  to  give  them  some." 

"Why,  they  can't  come  in  here,  my  dear.  Those 
dirty  little  brats  come  in  our  car!  It  is  impossible,  my 
dear." 

"Oh,  no,  it  is  not,  Aunty,"  said  the  young  girl  with  a 
laugh,  "they  have  had  no  breakfast." 

"  Give  them  food,  my  dear,  if  you  please,  but  I  beg 
you  not  to  bring  them  into  this  car.  Look  how  dirty 
they  are!  Why,  they  might  give  us  all  some  terrible 
disease!" 

But  Miss  Eleanor  had  closed  her  ears  to  the  plump 
lady's  expostulations,  and  was  arranging  with  a  surly 
servant  for  something  to  eat  for  the  children.  And 
just  then  the  question  of  their  invasion  of  the  car  was 

79 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

settled  by  the  train's  starting.  I  undertook  to  run  for 
ward  alongside  the  car,  but  seeing  an  open  ravine  ahead 
spanned  by  a  trestle,  and  that  the  train  was  quickening 
its  speed,  I  caught  Dixie  and  threw  him  up  on  the  rear 
platform,  and  then  swung  myself  up  after  him.  The 
rear  door  was  still  unlocked,  so  I  opened  it  to  pass 
through  the  car.  Just  inside,  the  elderly  lady  was 
sitting  back  in  an  arm-chair  with  a  novel  in  her  lap, 
though  she  was  engaged  at  the  moment  in  softly 
polishing  her  nails.  She  stopped  long  enough  to 
raise  her  jewelled  lorgnette,  and  take  a  shot  at  me 
through  it: 

"Are  you  the  brakeman?"  she  called. 

"No,  Madame,"  I  said  grimly,  thinking,  "Well,  I 
must  have  a  brakeman 's  air  to-day." 

"Oh!   Will  you  ring  that  bell?" 

"  Certainly."  I  rang  and,  passing  on,  was  met  by  the 
porter  coming  to  answer  the  bell. 

"This  is  a  private  car,"  he  said  shortly,  blocking  my 
way. 

"I  know  it."     I  looked  him  in  the  eye. 

"You  can't  go  th'oo  this  car." 

"  Oh !  yes,  I  can.  I  have  got  to  go  through  it.  Move 
out  of  my  way." 

My  tone  and  manner  impressed  him  sufficiently,  and 
he  surlily  moved  aside,  muttering  to  himself;  and  I 
passed  on,  just  conscious  that  the  stout  lady  had  posted 
herself  at  the  opening  of  the  passage-way  behind,  and 
had  beckoned  to  the  porter,  who  sprang  toward  her  with 
alacrity.  As  I  passed  through  the  open  saloon,  the 

80 


PADAN-ARAM 

young  lady  was  engaged  in  supplying  my  little  charges 
with  large  plates  of  bread  and  butter,  while  a  grinning 
cook,  in  his  white  apron  and  cap,  was  bringing  a  yet 
further  supply.  She  turned  and  smiled  to  me  as  I 
passed. 

"Won't  you  have  something,  too?  It  is  a  very  poor 
apology  for  a  breakfast;  for  we  had  finished  and  cleared 
away,  but  if " 

"These  little  tots  don't  appear  to  think  so,"  I  said, 
my  ill-humor  evaporating  under  her  smile. 

"Well,  won't  you  have  something?" 

I  declined  this  in  my  best  Chesterfieldian  manner, 
alleging  that  I  must  go  ahead  and  tell  their  mother  what 
a  good  fairy  they  had  found. 

"Oh!  it  is  nothing.  To  think  of  these  poor  little 
things  being  kept  without  breakfast  all  morning.  My 
father  will  be  very  much  disturbed  to  find  that  this  car 
has  caused  the  delay." 

"Not  if  he  is  like  his  sister,"  I  thought  to  myself, 
but  I  only  bowed,  and  said,  "I  will  come  back  in  a  little 
while,  and  get  them  for  their  mother."  To  which  she 
replied  that  she  would  send  them  to  their  mother  by  the 
porter,  thereby  cutting  off  a  chance  which  I  had  prom 
ised  myself  of  possibly  getting  another  glimpse  of  her. 
But  the  sight  of  myself  at  this  moment  in  a  mirror 
hastened  my  departure.  A  large  smudge  of  black  was 
across  my  face,  evidently  from  a  hand  of  one  of  the 
children.  The  prints  of  the  fingers  in  black  were  plain 
on  my  cheek,  while  a  broad  smear  ran  across  my  nose. 
No  wonder  they  thought  me  a  brakeman. 

81 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

As  I  reached  the  front  door  of  the  car  I  found  it 
locked  and  I  could  not  open  it.  At  the  same  moment 
the  porter  appeared  behind  me. 

"Ef  you'll  git  out  of  my  way,  Fll  open  it,"  he  said  in 
a  tone  so  insolent  that  my  gorge  rose. 

I  stood  aside  and,  still  muttering  to  himself,  he  un 
locked  the  door,  and  with  his  hand  on  the  knob,  stood 
aside  for  me  to  pass.  As  I  passed  I  turned  to  look  for 
Dixie,  who  was  following  me,  and  I  caught  the  words, 
"Fse  tired  o'  po'  white  folks  and  dogs  in  my  car."  At 
the  same  moment  Dixie  passed  and  he  gave  him  a  kick, 
which  drew  a  little  yelp  of  surprise  from  him.  My 
blood  suddenly  boiled.  The  door  was  still  open  and, 
quick  as  light,  I  caught  the  porter  by  the  collar  and  with 
a  yank  jerked  him  out  on  the  platform.  The  door 
slammed  to  as  he  came,  and  I  had  him  to  myself.  With 
my  hand  still  on  his  throat  I  gave  him  a  shake  that  made 
his  teeth  rattle. 

"You  black  scoundrel/'  I  said  furiously.  "I  have 
a  good  mind  to  fling  you  off  this  train,  and  break  your 
neck."  The  negro's  face  was  ashy. 

"Indeed,  boss,"  he  said,  "I  didn'  mean  no  harm  in 
the  world  by  what  I  said.  If  I  had  known  you  was  one 
of  dese  gentlemens,  I'd  'a'  never  said  a  word;  nor  suh, 
that  I  wouldn'.  An'  I  wouldn'  'a'  tetched  your  dorg 
for  nuthin',  no  suh." 

"Well,  I'll  teach  you  something,"  I  said.  "I'll 
teach  you  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head,  at 
least."" 

"Yes,  suh,  yes,  suh,"  he  said,  "I  always  is,  I  always 


PADAN-ARAM 

tries  to  be,  I  just  didn't  know;  nor  suh,  I  axes  your 
pardon.  I  didn'  mean  nuthin'  in  the  worl'." 

"Now  go  in  there  and  learn  to  behave  yourself  in  the 
future,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  suh,  I  will."  And,  with  another  bow,  and  a 
side  look  at  Dix,  who  was  now  growling  ominously,  he 
let  himself  in  at  the  door  and  I  passed  on  forward. 


83 


IX 

I   PITCH  MY  TENT 

When,  a  little  later,  my  small  charges  were  brought 
back  to  their  mother  (to  whom  I  had  explained  their 
absence),  it  was  by  the  young  lady  herself,  and  I  never 
saw  a  more  grateful  picture  than  that  young  girl,  in 
her  fresh  travelling  costume,  convoying  those  children 
down  the  car  aisle.  Her  greeting  of  the  tired  mother 
was  a  refreshment,  and  a  minute  after  she  had  gone 
the  mother  offered  me  a  part  of  a  substantial  supply 
of  sandwiches  which  she  had  brought  her,  so  that  I 
found  myself  not  quite  so  much  in  sympathy  as  before 
with  the  criticism  of  the  road  that  was  now  being  freely 
bandied  about  the  car,  and  which  appeared  to  have 
made  all  the  passengers  as  one. 

Not  long  after  this  we  dropped  the  private  car  at  a 
station  and  proceeded  on  without  it.  We  had,  how 
ever,  not  gone  far  when  we  stopped  and  were  run  into  a 
siding  and  again  waited,  and  after  a  time,  a  train 
whizzed  by  us — a  special  train  with  but  two  private  cars 
on  it.  It  was  going  at  a  clipping  rate,  but  it  did  not  run 
so  fast  that  we  did  not  recognize  the  private  car  we  had 
dropped  some  way  back,  and  it  soon  became  known 
throughout  our  train  that  we  had  been  sidetracked  to 
let  a  special  with  private  cars  have  the  right-of-way.  I 

84 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

confess  that  my  gorge  rose  at  this,  and  when  the  man  ii 
front  of  me  declared  that  we  were  the  most  patient  people 
on  earth  to  give  public  franchises,  pay  for  travelling  on 
trains  run  by  virtue  of  them,  and  then  stand  being 
shoved  aside  and  inconvenienced  out  of  all  reason  to 
allow  a  lot  of  bloated  dead-heads  to  go  ahead  of  us  in 
their  special  trains,  I  chimed  in  with  him  heartily. 

"Well,  the  road  belongs  to  them,  don't  it?"  inquired 
a  thin  man  with  a  wheezing  voice.  "That  was  Canter's 
private  train,  and  he  took  on  the  Argand  car  at  that 
station  back  there." 

"'They  own  the  road!'  How  do  they  own  it? 
How  did  they  get  it?"  demanded  the  first  speaker 
warmly. 

"Why,  you  know  how  they  got  it.  They  got  it  in 
the  panic — that  is,  they  got  the  controlling  interest." 

"Yes,  and  then  ran  the  stock  down  till  they  had  got 
control  and  then  reorganized  and  cut  out  those  that 
wouldn't  sell — or  couldn't — the  widows  and  orphans 
and  infants — that's  the  way  they  got  it." 

"Well,  the  court  upheld  it?" 

"Yes,  under  the  law  they  had  had  made  themselves 
to  suit  themselves.  You  know  how  'twas!  You  were 
there  when  'twas  done  and  saw  how  they  flung  their 
money  around — or  rather  the  Argand  money — for  I 
don't  believe  Canter  and  his  set  own  the  stock  at  all. 
I'll  bet  a  thousand  dollars  that  every  share  is  up  as 
collateral  in  old  Argand's  bank." 

"Oh!  Well,  it's  all  the  same  thing.  They  stand  in 
together.  They  run  the  bank — the  bank  lends  money; 

85 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

they  buy  the  stock  and  put  it  up  for  the  loan,  and  then 
run  the  road." 

"And  us,"  chipped  in  the  other;  for  they  had  now 
gotten  into  a  high  good-humor  with  each  other — "they 
get  our  franchises  and  our  money,  and  then  side-track 
us  without  breakfast  while  they  go  sailing  by — in  cars 
that  they  call  theirs,  but  which  we  pay  for.  I  do  think 
we  are  the  biggest  fools!" 

"That's  Socialistic!"  said  his  friend  again.  "You've 
been  reading  that  fellow's  articles  in  the  Sunday  papers. 
What's  his  name?" 

"No,  I've  been  thinking.  I  don't  care  what  it  is, 
it's  the  truth,  and  I'm  tired  of  it." 

"They  say  he's  a  Jew,"  interrupted  the  former. 

"I  don't  care  what  he  is,  it's  the  truth,"  asserted  the 
other  doggedly. 

"Well,  I  rather  think  it  is,"  agreed  his  friend;  "but 
then,  I'm  hungry,  and  there  isn't  even  any  water  on  the 
car." 

"And  they  guzzle  champagne!"  sneered  the  other, 
"which  we  pay  for,"  he  added. 

"You're  a  stockholder?" 

"Yes,  in  a  small  way;  but  I  might  as  well  own  stock 
in  a  paving-company  to  Hell.  My  father  helped  to 
build  this  road  and  used  to  take  great  pride  in  it.  They 
used  to  give  the  stockholders  then  a  free  ride  once  a 
year  to  the  annual  meeting,  and  it  made  them  all  feel 
as  if  they  owned  the  road." 

"But  now  they  give  free  passes  not  to  the  stock 
holders,  but  to  the  legislators  and  the  judges." 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

"It  pays  better,"  said  his  friend,  and  they  both 
laughed.  It  appeared,  indeed,  rather  a  good  joke  to  them 
— or,  at  least,  there  was  nothing  which  they  could  do 
about  it,  so  they  might  as  well  take  it  good-humoredly. 

By  this  time  I  had  learned  that  my  neighbor  with  the 
five  children  was  the  wife  of  a  man  named  McNeil, 
who  was  a  journeyman  machinist,  but  had  been  thrown 
out  of  work  by  a  strike  in  another  city,  and,  after  waiting 
around  for  months,  had  gone  North  to  find  employment, 
and  having  at  last  gotten  it,  had  now  sent  for  them  to 
come  on.  She  had  not  seen  him  for  months,  and  she 
was  looking  forward  to  it  now  with  a  happiness  that  was 
quite  touching.  Even  the  discomforts  of  the  night  could 
not  dull  her  joy  in  the  anticipation  of  meeting  her  hus 
band — and  she  constantly  enheartened  her  droopy  little 
brood  with  the  prospect  of  soon  seeing  their  "dear 
Daddy." 

Finally  after  midday  we  arrived. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  sight  and  smells  of  that 
station,  if  I  live  to  be  a  thousand  years  old.  It  seemed 
to  me  a  sort  of  temporary  resting-place  for  lost  souls — 
and  I  was  one  of  them.  Had  Dante  known  it,  he  must 
have  pictured  it,  with  its  reek  and  grime.  The  pro 
cession  of  tired,  bedraggled  travellers  that  streamed  in 
through  the  black  gateways  to  meet  worn  watchers  with 
wan  smiles  on  their  tired  faces,  or  to  look  anxiously 
and  in  vain  for  friends  who  had  not  come,  or  else  who 
had  come  and  gone.  And  outside  the  roar  of  the 
grimy  current  that  swept  through  the  black  street. 

I  had  no  one  to  look  for;  so,  after  helping  my  neighbor 
87 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  her  frowsy  little  brood  off,  I  sauntered  along  with 
Dix  at  my  heel,  feeling  about  as  lonely  as  a  man  can  feel 
on  this  populated  earth.  After  gazing  about  and  re 
fusing  sternly  to  meet  the  eye  of  any  of  the  numerous 
cabmen  who  wildly  waved  their  whips  toward  me, 
shouting:  "Kebsuh — kebsuh — keb — keb — keb?"  with 
wearying  iteration,  I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  to 
take  the  least  noisy  of  them,  when  I  became  conscious 
that  my  fellow-traveller,  Mrs.  McNeil  with  her  little 
clan,  was  passing  out  of  the  station  unescorted  and  was 
looking  about  in  a  sort  of  lost  way.  On  my  speaking  to 
her,  her  face  brightened  for  a  moment,  but  clouded 
again  instantly,  as  she  said,  "Oh!  sir,  he's  gone!  He 
came  to  meet  me  this  morning;  but  the  train  was  late 
and  he  couldn't  wait  or  he'd  lose  his  job,  so  he  had  to  go, 
and  the  kind  man  at  the  gate  told  me  he  left  the  message 
for  me.  But  however  shall  I  get  there  with  all  the 
children,  for  I  haven't  a  cent  left!" 

The  tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes  as  she  came  to  her 
sad  little  confession.  And  I  said,  "Oh!  Well,  I  think 
we  can  manage  it  somehow.  You  have  his  address?' 

"Oh!  yes,  sir,  I  have  it  here,"  and  she  pulled  out  an 
empty  little  pocket-book  from  the  breast  of  her  worn 
frock,  and  while  she  gave  the  baby  to  the  eldest  girl  to 
hold,  tremblingly  opened  the  purse.  In  it  was  only  a 
crumpled  letter  and,  besides  this,  a  key — these  were  all. 
She  opened  the  letter  tenderly  and  handed  it  to  me. 
I  read  the  address  and  fastened  it  in  my  memory. 

"Now."  I  said,  "we'll  straighten  this  out  directly. 
I  turned  and  called  a  hackman.     "  I  want  a  carriage." 

88 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

There  was  a  rush,  but  I  was  firm  and  insisted  on  a 
hack.  However,  as  none  was  to  be  had,  I  was  fain  to 
content  myself  with  a  one-horse  cab  of  much  greater  age 
than  dimension. 

Bundling  them  in  and  directing  the  driver  to  go 
around  and  get  the  trunk  from  the  baggage-room,  I 
mounted  beside  him  and  took  Dix  between  my  feet  and 
one  of  the  children  in  my  arms,  and  thus  made  my  entry 
into  the  city  of  my  future  home.  My  loneliness  had 
somehow  disappeared. 

My  prote*geVs  destination  turned  out  to  be  a  long 
way  off,  quite  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  where 
working  people  had  their  little  homes — a  region  I  was 
to  become  better  acquainted  with  later.  As  we  began 
to  pass  bakeries  and  cook-shops,  the  children  began 
once  more  to  clamor  to  their  mother  for  something  to 
eat,  on  which  the  poor  thing  tried  to  quiet  them  with 
promises  of  what  they  should  have  when  they  reached 
home.  But  I  could  perceive  that  her  heart  was  low 
within  her,  and  I  stopped  at  a  cook-shop  and  bought  a 
liberal  allowance  of  bread  and  jam  and  cookies,  on 
which  the  young  things  fell  to  like  famished  wolves, 
while  their  mother  overwhelmed  me  with  blessings. 

We  had  not  gone  far,  and  were  still  in  the  centre  of 
the  city,  when  a  handsome  open  carriage  drove  by  us, 
and  as  it  passed,  there  sat  in  it  the  young  lady  I  had 
seen  on  the  train,  with  a  pleasant  looking  elderly  man, 
whom  I  conjectured  to  be  her  father,  and  who  appeared 
in  a  very  good-humor  with  her  or  himself.  As  I  was 
gazing  at  them,  her  eyes  fell  full  into  mine,  and  after  a 

89 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

half-moment's  mystification,  she  recognized  me  as  I 
lifted  my  hat,  and  her  face  lit  up  with  a  pleasant  smile 
of  recognition.  I  found  my  feelings  divided  between 
pleasure  at  her  sweet  return  of  my  bow  and  chagrin  that 
she  should  find  me  in  such  a  predicament;  for  I  knew 
what  a  ridiculous  figure  I  must  cut  with  the  dog  between 
my  feet  and  a  frowsy  child,  thickly  smeared  with  jam, 
in  my  arms.  In  fact,  I  could  see  that  the  girl  was  talk 
ing  and  laughing  spiritedly  with  her  father,  evidently 
about  us.  I  confess  to  a  feeling  of  shame  at  the  figure 
I  must  cut,  and  I  wondered  if  she  would  not  think  I 
had  lied  to  her  in  saying  that  I  had  never  met  them  be 
fore.  I  did  not  know  that  the  smile  had  been  for  Dix. 

When  we  reached,  after  a  good  hour's  drive,  the  little 
street  for  which  we  were  bound,  I  found  my  forecast 
fairly  correct.  The  dingy  little  house,  on  which  was  the 
rusted  number  given  Mrs.  McNeil  in  her  husband's 
letter,  was  shut  up  and  bore  no  evidence  of  having  been 
opened,  except  a  small  flower-pot  with  a  sprig  of  green 
in  it  in  a  dusty,  shutterless  window.  It  was  the  sort 
of  house  that  is  a  stove  in  summer  and  an  ice-box  in  the 
winter.  And  there  was  a  whole  street  of  them.  After 
we  had  knocked  several  times  and  I  had  tried  to  peep 
over  the  fence  at  the  end  of  the  street,  the  door  of  an 
adjoining  tenement  opened,  and  a  slatternly,  middle- 
aged  woman  peeped  out. 

"Are  you  Mrs.  McNeil?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  here's  your  key.  Your  man  told  me  to  tell 
you  't  if  you  came  while  he  was  at  work,  you'd  find 

90 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

something  to  eat  in  the  back  room  't  he'd  cooked  this 
mornin'  before  he  went  to  work.  The  train  was  late, 
he  said,  and  he  couldn't  wait;  but  he'd  be  home  to 
night,  and  he'd  bring  some  coal  when  he  came.  What 
a  fine  lot  o'  children  you  have.  They  ought  to  keep 
you  in  cinders  and  wood.  I  wish  I  had  some  as  big  as 
that;  but  mine  are  all  little.  My  two  eldest  died  of 
scarlet  fever  two  years  ago.  Drainage,  they  said." 

She  had  come  out  and  unlocked  the  door  and  was 
now  turning  away. 

"  I  think  your  man  had  someone  to  take  the  upstairs 
front  room;  but  he  didn't  come — you'll  have  to  get  some 
one  to  do  it  and  you  double  up.  The  Argand  Estate 
charges  such  rent,  we  all  have  to  do  that.  Well,  if  I 
can  help  you,  I'm  right  here." 

I  was  struck  by  her  kindness  to  the  forlorn  stranger, 
and  the  latter's  touching  recognition  of  it,  expressed 
more  in  looks  and  in  tone  than  in  words. 

Having  helped  them  into  the  house,  which  was  sub 
stantially  empty,  only  one  room  having  even  a  pretence 
of  furniture  in  it,  and  that  merely  a  bed,  a  mattress  and 
a  broken  stove,  I  gave  the  poor  woman  a  little  of  my 
slender  stock  of  money  and  left  her  murmuring  her 
thanks  and  assurances  that  I  had  already  done  too 
much  for  them.  In  fact,  I  had  done  nothing. 

As  my  finances  were  very  low,  I  determined  to  find 
a  boarding-house  instead  of  wasting  them  at  a  hotel.  I 
accordingly  stopped  at  a  sizable  house  which  I  recog 
nized  as  a  boarding-house  on  a  street  in  a  neighborhood 

91 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

which  might,  from  the  old  houses  with  their  handsome 
doors  and  windows,  have  once  been  fashionable,  though 
fashion  had  long  since  taken  its  flight  to  a  newer  and 
gaudier  part  of  the  town,  and  the  mansions  were  now 
giving  place  to  shops  and  small  grocers'  markets.  A 
wide  door  with  a  fan-shaped  transom  gave  it  dignity. 
A  large  wistaria  vine  coiled  up  to  the  top  of  a  somewhat 
dilapidated  porch  with  classical  pillars  lent  it  distinction. 
The  landlady,  Mrs.  Kale,  a  pleasant  looking,  kindly 
woman,  offered  me  a  small  back-room  on  reasonable 
terms,  it  being,  as  she  said,  the  dull  season;  and, 
having  arranged  for  Dix  in  a  dingy  little  livery  stable 
near  by,  I  took  it  "  temporarily,"  till  I  could  look 
around. 

I  found  the  company  somewhat  nondescript — ranging 
all  the  way  from  old  ladies  with  false  fronts  and  cracked 
voices  to  uppish  young  travelling  men  and  their  rather 
sad-looking  wives. 

Among  the  boarders,  the  two  who  interested  me  most 
were  two  elderly  ladies,  sisters,  whose  acquaintance  I 
made  the  day  after  my  arrival.  They  did  not  take  their 
meals  at  the  common  table,  but,  as  I  understood,  in  their 
own  apartment  in  the  third  story.  They  were  a  quaint 
and  pathetic  pair,  very  meagre,  very  shabby,  and  mani 
festly  very  poor.  There  was  an  air  of  mystery  about 
them,  and  Mrs.  Kale  treated  them  with  a  respect  which 
she  paid  to  no  others  of  her  variegated  household.  They 
occasionally  honored  the  sitting-room  with  their  pres 
ence  on  Sunday  evenings,  by  Mrs.  Kale's  especial  invi 
tation,  and  I  was  much  diverted  with  them.  They  were 

92 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

known  as  the  Miss  Tippses;  but  Mrs.  Kale  always 
spoke  of  them  as  "Miss  Pansy"  and  "Miss  Pinky."  It 
seems  that  she  had  known  them  in  her  youth,  "back 
East." 

My  acquaintance  with  the  two  old  ladies  at  this  time 
was  entirely  accidental.  The  morning  after  my  arrival, 
as  I  started  out  to  look  around  for  an  office,  and  also  to 
take  Dix  for  a  walk,  as  well  as  to  take  a  look  at  the  city, 
I  fell  in  with  two  quaint-looking  old  women  who  slipped 
out  of  the  door  just  ahead  of  me,  one  of  them  slightly 
lame,  and  each  with  a  large  bundle  in  her  arms.  They 
were  dressed  in  rusty  black,  and  each  wore  a  veil,  which 
quite  concealed  her  features.  But  as  they  limped  along, 
engaged  in  an  animated  conversation,  their  voices 
were  so  refined  as  to  arrest  my  attention,  and  I  was 
guilty  of  the  impropriety  of  listening  to  them,  partly  out 
of  sheer  idleness,  and  partly  because  I  wanted  to  know 
something  of  my  boarding-house  and  of  my  fellow 
boarders.  They  were  talking  about  a  ball  of  the  night 
before,  an  account  of  which  they  had  read  in  the  papers, 
or  rather,  as  I  learned,  in  a  copy  of  a  paper  which  they 
had  borrowed,  and  they  were  as  much  interested  in  it 
as  if  they  had  been  there  themselves.  "Oh,  wouldn't 
you  have  liked  to  see  it?"  said  one.  "It  must  have 

been  beautiful.     I  should  have  liked  to  see  Miss " 

(I  could  not  catch  the  name).  "She  must  have  been 
exquisite  in  chiffon  and  lace.  She  is  so  lovely  anyhow. 
I  did  not  know  she  had  returned." 

"I  wonder  Mr.  — —  did  not  tell  us."  Again  I  failed 
to  hear  the  name. 

93 


JOHN  MARVEL;  ASSISTANT 

"For  a  very  good  reason,  I  suppose.  He  did  not 
know." 

"He  is  dead  in  love  with  her." 

"Oh,  you  are  so  romantic!"  said  the  other,  whom  I 
took  from  her  figure  and  her  feebleness  to  be  the  elder 
of  the  two. 

"No;  but  any  one  can  tell  that  at  a  glance." 

"What  a  pity  he  could  not  marry  her.  Then  we 
should  be  sure  to  see  her  as  a  bride." 

The  other  laughed.  "What  an  idea!  We  have 
nothing  fit  to  go  even  to  the  church  in." 

"Why,  we  could  go  in  the  gallery.  Oh,  this  bundle  is 
so  heavy!  I  don't  believe  I  can  ever  get  there  to-  day." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can.  Now  come  on.  Don't  give  up. 
Here,  rest  it  on  the  fence  a  moment." 

As  the  lame  one  attempted  to  lift  the  bundle  to  rest 
it  on  the  fence,  it  slipped  to  the  ground,  and  she  gave 
a  little  exclamation  of  fear. 

"Oh,  dear!   suppose  it  should  get  soiled!" 

I  stepped  forward  and  lifted  it  for  her,  and  to  my 
surprise  found  it  very  heavy.  Then,  as  they  thanked 
me,  it  occurred  to  me  to  offer  to  carry  the  bundle  for 
them  to  the  street  car  for  which  I  supposed  them  bound. 
There  was  a  little  demur,  and  I  added,  "I  am  at  Mrs. 
Kale's  also.  I  have  just  come."  This  appeared  to 
relieve  one  of  them  at  least,  but  the  other  said,  "Oh, 
but  we  are  not  going  to  the  street  car.  We  don't  ride 
in  street  cars." 

"Yes;  it  is  so  unhealthy,"  said  the  younger  one. 
"People  catch  all  sorts  of  diseases  on  the  car." 

94 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

Thinking  them  rather  airy,  I  was  about  to  hand  the 
bundle  back,  but  as  I  was  going  their  way  I  offered  to 
carry  the  bundles  for  both  of  them  as  far  as  I  was  going. 
This  proved  to  be  quite  twenty  blocks,  for  I  could  not 
in  decency  return  the  bundles.  So  we  went  on  together, 
I  feeling  at  heart  rather  ashamed  to  be  lugging  two  large 
bundles  through  the  streets  for  two  very  shabby-looking 
old  women  whose  names  I  did  not  know.  We  soon, 
however,  began  to  talk,  and  I  drew  out  from  them  a 
good  deal  about  Mrs.  Kale  and  her  kindness.  Also, 
that  they  had  seen  much  better  days,  to  which  one  of 
them  particularly  was  very  fond  of  referring.  It 
seemed  that  they  had  lived  East — they  carefully  guarded 
the  exact  place — and  had  once  had  interests  in  a  rail 
road  which  their  father  had  built  and  largely  owned. 
They  were  manifestly  anxious  to  make  this  clearly 
understood.  After  his  death  they  had  lived  on  their 
dividends,  until,  on  a  sudden,  the  dividends  had 
stopped.  They  found  that  the  railroad  with  which 
their  road  connected  had  passed  into  new  hands — had 
been  "bought  up"  by  a  great  syndicate,  their  lawyer 
had  informed  them,  and  refused  any  longer  to  make 
traffic  arrangements  with  the  road.  This  had  destroyed 
the  value  of  their  property,  but  they  had  refused  to  sell 
their  holdings  at  the  low  price  offered — "As  we  probably 
ought  to  have  done,"  sighed  one  of  them. 

"Not  at  all!  I  am  glad  we  didn't,"  asserted  the 
other. 

"Well,  sister,  we  got  nothing— we  lost  everything, 
didn't  we?" 

95 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  don't  know.  I  am  only  glad  that  we  held  out 
That  man  knows  that  he  robbed  us." 

"Well,  that  doesn't  help  us." 

"Yes,  it  does.  It  helps  me  to  know  that  he  knows 
it." 

"Who  was  it?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  there  was  a  syndicate.  I  only  know  the  names 
of  two  of  them — a  man  named  Argand,  and  a  man 
named  Canter.  And  our  lawyer  was  named  MeSheen." 

Argand  was  a  name  which  I  recalled  in  connection 
with  Mr.  Poolc's  interest  in  the  Railways  in  the  case 
I  have  mentioned. 

"Well,  you  held  on  to  your  stock.  You  have  it  now, 
then?"  I  foresaw  a  possible  law-case  against  Argand, 
and  wondered  if  he  was  the  owner  of  the  Argand  Estate, 
which  I  had  already  heard  of  twice  since  my  arrival. 

"No,"  said  one  of  them,  "they  bought  up  the  stock 
of  all  the  other  people,  and  then  they  did  something 
which  cut  us  out  entirely.  What  was  it  they  did, 
sister?" 

"Reorganized." 

"And  then  we  came  on  here  to  see  about  it,  and  spent 
everything  else  that  we  had  in  trying  to  get  it  back,  but 
we  lost  our  case,  And  since  then " 

"Well,  sister,  we  are  keeping  the  gentleman.  Thank 
you  very  much,"  said  the  younger  of  the  two  quickly, 
to  which  her  sister  added  her  thanks  as  well.  I  insisted 
at  first  on  going  further  with  them,  but  seeing  that  thov 
were  evidently  anxious  to  be  rid  of  me,  I  gave  them  thr* 
bundles  and  passed  on. 

96 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

Among  the  boarders  one  of  those  I  found  most  in 
teresting  was  a  young  man  named  Kalender,  by  whom 
I  sat  at  the  first  meal  after  my  arrival,  and  with  whom  I 
struck  up  an  acquaintance.  He  was  a  reporter  for  a 
morning  paper  of  very  advanced  methods,  and  he  was 
pre-eminently  a  person  fitted  for  his  position:  a  cocky 
youth  with  a  long,  keen  nose  and  a  bullet  head  covered 
with  rather  wiry,  black  hair,  heavy  black  brows  over 
keen  black  eyes,  and  an  ugly  mouth  with  rather  small 
yellowish  teeth.  He  had  as  absolute  confidence  in  him 
self  as  any  youth  I  ever  met,  and  he  either  had,  or 
made  a  good  pretence  of  having,  an  intimate  knowledge 
of  not  only  all  the  public  affairs  of  the  city,  but  of  the 
private  affairs  of  every  one  in  the  city.  Before  we  had 
finished  smoking  our  cigarettes  he  had  given  me  what 
he  termed  "the  lay  out"  of  the  entire  community,  and 

by  his  account  it  was  "the  rottenest town  in  the 

universe" — a  view  I  subsequently  had  reason  to  rectify 
—and  he  proposed  to  get  out  of  it  as  soon  as  he  could 
And  go  to  New  York,  which,  to  his  mind,  was  the  only 
town  worth  living  in  in  the  country  (he  having,  as  I 
learned  later,  lived  there  just  three  weeks). 

His  paper,  he  said  frankly,  paid  only  for  sensational 
articles,  and  was  just  then  "jumping  on  a  lot  of  the 
high-flyers,  because  that  paid,"  but  "they"  gave  him  a 
latitude  to  write  up  whatever  he  pleased,  because  they 
knew  he  could  dress  up  anything — from  a  murder  to  a 
missionary  meeting.  "Oh!  it  don't  matter  what  you 
write  about,"  said  he  airily,  "so  you  know  how  to  do 
it" — a  bit  of  criticism  suggestive  of  a  better-known  critic. 

97 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  was  much  impressed  by  his  extraordinary  and  ex 
tensive  experience.  In  the  course  of  our  conversation 
I  mentioned  casually  the  episode  of  the  delayed  train 
and  the  private  car. 

"The  Argands'  car,  you  say?" 

I  told  him  that  that  was  what  some  one  had  said. 

"That  would  make  a  good  story,"  he  declared. 
"I  think  I'll  write  that  up — I'd  have  all  the  babies 
dying  and  the  mothers  fainting  and  an  accident  just 
barely  averted  by  a  little  girl  waving  a  red  shawl,  see — 
while  the  Argand  car  dashed  by  with  a  party  eating  and 
drinking  and  throwing  champagne-bottles  out  of  the 
window.  But  I've  got  to  go  and  see  the  Mayor  to 
ascertain  why  he  appointed  the  new  city  comptroller, 
and  then  I've  got  to  drop  by  the  theatre  and  give  the 
new  play  a  roast — so  I'll  hardly  have  time  to  roast  those 
Argands  and  Leighs,  though  I'd  like  to  do  it  to  teach 
them  not  to  refuse  me  round-trip  passes  next  time  I  ask 
for  them.  I  tell  you  what  you  do,"  he  added,  modestly, 
"you  write  it  up — you  say  you  have  written  for  the 
press?" 

"Oh!  yes,  very  often — and  for  the  magazines.  I 
have  had  stories  published  in " 

"Well,  that's  all  right.  (Kalender  was  not  a  good 
listener.)  I'll  look  it  over  and  touch  it  up — put  the 
fire  in  it  and  polish  it  off.  You  write  it  up,  say — about 
a  column.  I  can  cut  it  down  all  right — and  I'll  call 
by  here  for  it  about  eleven,  after  the  theatre. 

It  was  a  cool  request — coolly  made;  but  I  was  fool 
enough  to  accede  to  it.  I  felt  much  aggrieved  over  the 

98 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

treatment  of  us  by  the  railway  company,  and  was  not 
sorry  to  air  my  grievance  at  the  same  time  that  I  secured 
a  possible  opening.  I  accordingly  spent  all  the  after 
noon  writing  my  account  of  the  inconvenience  and 
distress  occasioned  the  travelling  public  by  the  incon- 
siderateness  of  the  railway  management,  discussing,  by 
the  way,  the  fundamental  principle  of  ownership  in 
quasi-public  corporations,  and  showing  that  all  rights 
which  they  claimed  were  derived  from  the  people.  I 
mentioned  no  names  and  veiled  my  allusions;  but  I  paid 
a  tribute  to  the  kind  heart  of  the  Angel  of  Mercy  who 
succored  the  children.  I  spent  some  hours  at  my  com 
position  and  took  much  pride  in  it  when  completed. 
Then,  as  I  had  not  been  out  at  all  to  see  the  town,  I 
addressed  the  envelope  in  which  I  had  placed  my  story 
to  Mr.  Kalender,  and  leaving  it  for  him,  walked  out 
into  the  wilderness. 

On  my  return  the  paper  was  gone. 

Next  morning  I  picked  up  one  paper  after  another, 
but  did  not  at  first  find  my  contribution.  An  account 
of  a  grand  ball  the  night  before,  at  which  an  extraordi 
nary  display  of  wealth  must  have  been  made,  was  given 
the  prominent  place  in  most  of  them.  But  as  I  did  not 
know  the  persons  whose  costumes  were  described  with 
such  Byzantine  richness  of  vocabulary,  I  passed  it  by. 
The  only  thing  referring  to  a  railway  journey  was  a 
column  article,  in  a  sensational  sheet  called  The 
Trumpet,  headed,  BRUTALITY  OF  MILLIONAIRE 
BANKER.  RAILWAY  PRESIDENT  STARVES 
POOR  PASSENGERS.  There  under  these  glaring 

99 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

headlines,  I  at  last  discovered  my  article,  so  distorted 
and  mutilated  as  to  be  scarcely  recognizable.  The 
main  facts  of  the  delay  and  its  cause  were  there  as  I 
wrote  them.  My  discussion  of  derivative  rights  was 
retained.  But  the  motive  was  boldly  declared  to  be 
brutal  hatred  of  the  poor.  And  to  make  it  worse,  the 
names  of  both  Mr.  Leigh  and  Mrs.  Argand  were  given 
as  having  been  present  in  person,  gloating  over  the 
misery  they  had  caused,  while  a  young  lady,  whose  name 
was  not  given,  had  thrown  scraps  out  of  the  window  for 
starving  children  and  dogs  to  scramble  for. 

To  say  that  I  was  angry  expresses  but  a  small  part  of 
the  truth.  The  allusion  to  the  young  lady  had  made 
my  blood  boil.  What  would  she  think  if  she  should 
know  I  had  had  a  hand  in  that  paper  ?  I  waited  at  red 
heat  for  my  young  man,  and  had  he  appeared  before  I 
cooled  down,  he  would  have  paid  for  the  liberty  he  took 
with  me.  When  he  did  appear,  however,  he  was  so 
innocent  of  having  offended  me  that  I  could  scarcely 
bear  to  attack  him. 

"Well,  did  you  see  our  story?"  he  asked  gayly. 

"Yes — your  story — I  saw " 

"Well,  I  had  to  do  a  little  to  it  to  make  it  go,"  he 
said  condescendingly,  "but  you  did  very  well — you'll 
learn." 

"Thank  you.  I  don't  want  to  learn  that,"  I  said 
hotly,  "I  never  saw  anything  so  butchered.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  foundation  for  all  that  rot — it  was  made 
up  out  of  whole  cloth."  I  was  boiling  about  Miss 
Leigh. 

100 


I  PITCH  MY  TENT 

"Pooh-pooh!  My  dear  boy,  you'll  never  make  an 
editor.  "  I  never  fake  an  interview,"  he  said  virtuously. 
"Lots  of  fellows  do;  but  I  don't.  But  if  a  man  will 
give  me  two  lines,  I  can  give  him  two  columns— and 
good  ones,  too.  Why,  we  had  two  extras— what  with 
that  and  the  grand  ball  last  night.  The  newsboys  are 
crying  it  all  over  town." 

"I  don't  care  if  they  are.  I  don't  want  to  be  an 
editor  if  one  has  to  tell  such  atrocious  lies  as  that. 
But  I  don't  believe  editors  have  to  do  that,  and  I  know 
reputable  editors  don't.  Why,  you  have  named  a  man 
who  was  a  hundred  miles  away." 
He  simply  laughed. 

"Well,  I'm  quite  willing  to  get  the  credit  of  that  paper. 
That's  business.  We're  trying  to  break  down  the  Leigh 
interests,  and  the  Argands  are  mixed  up  with  'em.  Coll 
McSheen  was  in  the  office  last  night.  He's  counsel  for 
the  Argands,  but— you  don't  know  Coll  McSheen?" 
"I  do  not,"  I  said  shortly. 

"He's  deep.  You  know  you  write  better  than  you 
talk,"  he  added  patronizingly.  "I  tell  you  what  I'll 
do— if  you'll  write  me  every  day  on  some  live  topic— 

"I'll  never  write  you  a  line  again  on  any  topic,  alive 
or  dead,  unless  you  die  yourself,  when  I'll  write  that 
you  are  the  biggest  liar  I  ever  saw  except  my  Jeams." 
I  had  expected  he  would  resent  my  words,  but  he  did 
not.  He  only  laughed,  and  said,  "That's  a  good  line. 
Write  on  that." 

I  learned  later  that  he  had  had  a  slight  raise  of  salary 
on  the  paper  he  palmed  off  as  his.  I  could  only  console 

101 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

myself  with  the  hope  that  Miss  Leigh  would  not  see  the 
article. 

But  Miss  Leigh  did  see  the  appreciation  of  her  father 
in  the  writing  of  which  I  had  had  a  hand,  and  it  cost  me 
many  a  dark  hour  of  sad  repining. 


102 


X 

A  NEW  GIRL 

This  is  how  the  young  lady  heard  of  it.  Miss  Leigh 
had  been  at  home  but  an  hour  or  two  and  had  only  had 
time  to  change  her  travelling  costume  for  a  suit  of  light 
blue  with  a  blue  hat  to  match,  which  was  very  becoming 
to  her,  and  order  the  carriage  to  drive  down  and  get  her 
father,  when  a  visitor  was  announced:  Miss  Milly  Mc- 
Sheen,  an  old  schoolmate — and  next  moment  .a  rather 
large,  flamboyante  girl  of  about  Miss  Leigh's  own  age 
or  possibly  a  year  or  two  older,  bounced  into  the  room 
as  if  she  had  been  shot  in  out  of  one  of  those  mediaeval 
engines  which  flung  men  into  walled  towns. 

She  began  to  talk  volubly  even  before  she  was  actu 
ally  in  the  room;  she  talked  all  through  her  energetic  if 
hasty  embrace  of  her  friend,  and  all  the  time  she  was 
loosening  the  somewhat  complicated  fastening  of  a 
dotted  veil  which,  while  it  obscured,  added  a  certain 
charm  to  a  round,  florid,  commonplace,  but  good- 
humored  face  in  which  smiled  two  round,  shallow  blue 
eyes. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  she  began  while  yet  outside  the 
door,  "I  thought  you  never  were  coming  back!  Never! 
And  I  believe  if  I  hadn't  finally  made  up  my  mind  to 
get  you  back  you  would  have  stayed  forever  in  that 
nasty,  stuck-up  city  of  Brotherly  Love." 

103 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Miss  Leigh  a  little  airily  observed  that  that  title  ap 
plied  to  Philadelphia,  and  she  had  only  passed  through 
Philadelphia  on  a  train  one  night. 

"Oh!  well,  it  was  some  kind  of  love,  I'll  be  bound, 
and  some  one's  else  brother,  too,  that  kept  you  away  so 
long." 

"  No,  it  was  not — not  even  some  one  else's  brother," 
replied  Miss  Leigh. 

"Oh!  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  tell  me  that's  wrong. 
Why,  I've  been  practising  that  all  summer.  It  sounds 
so  grammatical— so  New  Yorkish." 

"  1  can't  help  it.  It  may  be  New  Yorkish,  but  it  isn't 
grammatical,"  said  Miss  Leigh.  "  But  I  never  expected 
to  get  back  earlier.  My  Aunt  had  to  look  into  some  of 
her  affairs  in  the  East  and  had  to  settle  some  matters 
with  a  lawyer  down  South,  a  friend  of  my  father's — an 
old  gentleman  who  used  to  be  one  of  her  husband's 
partners  and  is  her  trustee  or  something,  and  I  had  to 
wait  till  they  got  matters  settled." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  are  here  in  time.  I  was  so 
afraid  you  wouldn't  be,  that  I  got  Pa  to  telegraph  and 
have  your  car  put  on  the  president's  special  train  that 
was  coming  through  and  had  the  right-of-way.  I  told 
him  that  I  didn't  see  that  because  your  father  had  re 
signed  from  the  directory  was  any  reason  why  you 
shouldn't  be  brought  on  the  train." 

"Were  we  indebted  to  you  for  that  attention?" 
Eleanor  Leigh's  voice  had  a  tone  of  half  incredulity. 

"Yep — I  am  the  power  behind  the  throne  just  at 
present.  Pa  and  old  Mr.  Canter  have  buried  the 

104 


A  NEW  GIRL 

hatchet  and  are  as  thick  as  thieves  since  their  new  deal, 
and  Jim  Canter  told  me  his  car  was  coming  through  on 
a  special.  Oh!  you  ought  to  hear  him  the  way  he  says, 
My  car,  and  throws  his  chest  out!  So  I  said  I  wanted 
him  to  find  out  where  you  were  on  the  road — on 
what  train,  I  mean — and  pick  you  up,  and  he  said  he 
would." 

"Oh!  I  see,"  said  Miss  Leigh,  looking  somewhat 
annoyed. 

"He  did,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  you  know  Jim  Canter  is  a  very  promising 
young  man,  much  more  so  than  he  is  a  fulfiller.  What 
are  you  so  serious  about?  You  look  as " 

"Nothing — only  I  don't  wish  to  be  beholden  to — I 
was  just'  wondering  what  right  we  have  to  stop  trains 
full  of  people  who  have  paid  for  their  tickets  and " 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  other  girl  in  astonishment, 
"what  right?  Why,  our  fathers  are  directors,  aren't 
th.y — at  least,  my  father  is — and  own  a  block  of  the 
stock  that  controls ?" 

"Yes;  but  all  these  people — who  pay — and  who  had 
no  breakfast?" 

"Oh!  don't  you  worry  about  them — they'll  get  along 
somehow — and  if  they  pay  they'll  look  out  for  them 
selves  without  your  doing  it.  My  way  is  to  make  all  I 
can  out  of  them  and  enjoy  it  while  I  can — that's  what 
Pa  says." 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Leigh  acquiescingly,  "but  I'm  not 
sure  that  it's  right." 

105 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"You've  been  reading  that  man's  articles,"  declared 
Miss  McSheen.  "I  know — I  have,  too — everybody  has 
—all  the  girls.  I  am  a  socialist — aren't  they  terribly 
striking!  He's  so  good-looking.  Pa  says  he's  a  Jew 
and  an  anarchist,  and  ought  to  be  in  jail." 

"Are  you  speaking  of  Mr.  Wolffert?" 

"Yes,  of  course.  Now  you  need  not  make  out  you 
don't  know  him;  because  they  say " 

"Yes,  I  know  him  very  well,"  said  Miss  Leigh,  so 
stiffly  that  her  guest  paused  and  changed  her  tone. 

"Well,  anyhow,  my  dear,  you  are  just  in  time.  We 
are  going  to  have  the  biggest  thing  we've  ever  had  in 
this  town.  I've  almost  died  laughing  over  it  already." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Wait.  I'm  going  to  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  know 
it  was  all  my  idea.  Harriet  Minturn  claims  the  whole 
credit  for  it  now  that  I've  made  it  go — says  she  first 
suggested  it,  and  I  assure  you,  my  dear,  she  never  opened 
her  head  about  it  till  I  had  all  the  girls  wild  about  it, 
and  had  arranged  for  the  costumes  and  had  gotten  the 
Count  to  promise " 

"What  is  it?"  interrupted  her  hostess  again,  laugh 
ing. 

"Wait,  my  dear,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  all  about  it. 
The  Count's  a  socialist,  too.  He  says  he  is — but  you 
mustn't  tell  that;  he  told  me  in  the  strictest  confidence. 
Well,  the  Count's  to  go  as  courtier  of  the  court  of — 
what's  the  name  of  that  old  king  or  emperor,  or  what 
ever  he  was,  that  conquered  that  country — you  know 

what  I  mean " 

106 


A  NEW  GIRL 

"No,  indeed,  I  do  not — and  I  haven't  the  least  idea 
what  you  are  talking  about." 

"Oh!  pshaw!  I  know  perfectly  well,  and  you  do,  too. 
The  Count  bet  me  I'd  forget  it  and  I  bet  him  a  gold 
cigar-holder  I  wouldn't — what  is  his  name  ?  Won't  the 
Count  look  handsome  with  lace  ruffles  and  gold  braid 
all  over  his  chest  and  coat-tails,  and  a  cocked  hat.  He's 
been  showing  me  the  way  they  dance  in  his  country.  I 
almost  died  laughing  over  it — only  it  makes  me  so  dizzy, 
they  never  reverse — just  whirl  and  whirl  and  whirl. 
You  know  he's  a  real  count?  Yes,  my  father's  taken 
the  trouble  to  hunt  that  up.  He  said  he  wasn't 
'going  to  let  a  d d  dago  come  around  me  with 
out  anybody  knowing  who  or  what  he  is.'  Ain't  that 
like  Pa?" 

"I — I — don't  think  I  ever  met  your  father,"  said 
Eleanor  stiffly. 

"Oh!  that's  a  fact.  Well,  'tis— 'tis  just  exactly  like 
him.  As  soon  as  the  Count  began  to  come  around  our 
house — a  good  deal — I  mean,  really,  quite  a  good  deal 
— you  understand?"  said  the  girl,  tossing  her  blonde 
head,  "what  must  Pa  do  but  go  to  work  and  hunt 
him  up.  He  thinks  Jim  Canter  is  a  winner,  but  I 
tell  him  Jimmy's  bespoke."  She  looked  at  her  hostess 
archly. 

"What  did  he  find  out?"  inquired  Miss  Leigh  coldly, 
"and  how  did  he  do  it?" 

"Why,  he  just  ran  him  down,"  explained  the  girl 
easily,  "just  as  he  does  anybody  he  wants  to  know 
about — put  a  man  on  him,  you  know." 

107 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Oh!  I  see."  Miss  Leigh  froze  up  a  little;  but  the 
other  girl  did  not  notice  it. 

"Only  this  one  was  somebody  on  the  other  side,  of 
course,  and  he  found  out  that  he's  all  right.  He's  a  real 
count.  He's  the  third  son  of  Count  Pushkin,  who  was 
— let  me  see — a  counsellor  of  his  emperor,  the  Emperor 
of  Sweden." 

"I  didn't  know  they  had  an  emperor  in  Sweden. 
He's  a  new  one." 

"Haven't  they?  Oh!  well,  maybe  it  was  the  King  of 
Sweden,  or  the  Emperor  of  Russia — I  don't  know — they 
are  all  alike  to  me.  I  never  could  keep  them  apart,  even 
at  Miss  de  Pense's.  I  only  know  he's  a  real  count,  and 
I  won  a  hundred  dollars  from  Pa  on  a  bet  that  he  was. 
And  he  hated  to  pay  it!  He  bet  that  he  was  a  cook  or  a 
barber.  And  I  bet  he  wasn't.  And,  oh!  you  know  it's 
an  awfully  good  joke  on  him — for  he  was  a  waiter  in 
New  York  for  a  while." 

"A  what?" 

"A  waiter — oh,  just  for  a  little  while  after  he  came 
over — before  his  remittances  arrived.  But  I  made  Pa 
pay  up,  because  he  said  cook  or  barber.  I  put  it  in 
this  hat,  see,  ain't  it  a  wonder?"  She  turned  herself 
around  before  a  mirror  and  admired  her  hat  which 
was,  indeed  as  Miss  Leigh  was  forced  to  admit,  "a 
wonder." 

"You  know  it's  just  like  the  hat  Gabrielle  Lightfoot 
wears  in  the  '  Star  of  the  Harem '  when  she  comes  in  in 
the  balloon.  I  got  her  to  let  me  copy  it — exactly." 

"  You  did  ?    How  did  you  manage  that  ?  " 
108 


A  NEW  GIRL 

"Why,  you  see,  Jimmy  Canter  knows  her,  and  he 
asked  Harriet  and  me  to  supper  to  meet  her,  and  I  de 
clare  she  nearly  made  me  die  laughing — you  know  she's 
a  real  sweet  girl — Jimmy  says  she — — " 

"Who  chaperoned  you?"  asked  Miss  Leigh,  as  she 
began  to  put  on  her  gloves. 

"  Chaperon  ?  My  dear,  that's  where  the  fun  came  in 
— we  didn't  have  any  chaperon.  I  pretended  that  Har 
riet  and  the  Count  were  married  and  called  her  Countess, 
and  she  was  so  flattered  at  being  given  the  title  that  she 
was  pleased  to  death— though  you  know,  she's  really 
dead  in  love  with  Jimmy  Canter,  and  he  hardly  looks  at 
her.  If  he's  in  love  with  any  one — except  Mr.  James 
Canter,  Jr. — it's  with  some  one  else  I  know."  She 
nodded  her  head  knowingly. 

"I'm  afraid  I  have  to  go  now,"  said  Miss  Leigh,  "my 
father  expects  me  to  come  for  him,"  she  glanced  at  a 
jewelled  watch.  She  had  stiffened  up  slightly. 

"Well,  of  course,  you'll  come?" 

"To  what?" 

"To  our  ball — that's  what  it  is,  you  know,  though  it's 
for  a  charity,  and  we  make  others  pay  for  it.  Why 
shouldn't  they?  I  haven't  decided  yet  what  charity. 
Harriet  wants  it  to  be  for  a  home  for  cats.  You'd  know 
she'd  want  that  now,  wouldn't  you  ?  She'll  be  in  there 
herself  some  day.  But  I'm  not  going  to  let  it  go  for 
anything  she  wants.  She's  claiming  now  that  she  got 
it  up,  and  I'm  just  going  to  show  her  who  did.  I'm 
thinking  of  giving  it  to  that  young  preacher  you  met 
in  the  country  two  years  ago  and  got  so  interested 

100 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

in  't  you  got  Dr.  Capon  to  bring  him  here  as  his 
assistant." 

"You  couldn't  give  it  to  a  better  cause,"  said  Miss 
Leigh.  "  I  wonder  how  he  is  coming  on  ?" 

"  I  guess  you  know  all  right.  But  Pa  says,"  pursued 
Miss  McSheen  without  heeding  further  the  interrup 
tion,  "we  are  ruining  the  poor,  and  the  reason  they  won't 
work  is  that  we  are  always  giving  them  money.  You 
know  they're  striking  on  our  lines — some  of  them? 
I  haven't  decided  yet  what  to  give  it  to.  Oh!  you 
ought  to  see  the  Doctor.  He's  the  gayest  of  the  gay. 
He  came  to  see  me  the  other  day.  It  almost  made  me 
die  laughing.  You  know  he's  dead  in  love  with  your 
Aunt.  I  used  to  think  it  was  you;  but  Pa  says  I'm 
always  thinking  everybody  is  in  love  with  you — even 
the  Count — but  he  says —  However " 

"I'll  tell  you  what!"  said  Miss  Leigh  suddenly,  "I'll 
come  to  the  ball  if  you'll  give  the  proceeds  to  Mr.  Mar 
vel  for  his  poor  people." 

"Done!  See  there!  what  did  I  tell  you!  I  thought 
you  weren't  so  pious  for  nothing  all  on  a  sudden " 

"Milly,  you're  a  goose,"  said  Miss  Leigh,  picking  up 
her  sunshade. 

"I'm  a  wise  one,  though— what  was  it  our  teacher 
used  to  tell  us  about  the  geese  giving  the  alarm  some 
where  ?  But  I  don't  care.  I'm  the  treasurer  and  pay 
the  bills.  Pa  says  the  man  that  holds  the  bag  gets  the 
swag.  Bring  your  father.  We'll  get  something  grand 
out  of  him.  He  always  gives  to  everything.  I'll  call  him 
up  and  tell  him  to  be  sure  and  come.  You  know  they've 

110 


A  NEW  GIRL 

landed  the  deal.  Pa  says  every  one  of  them  has  made 
a  pile.  Your  father  might  have  made  it,  too,  if  he'd 
come  in,  but  I  think  he  was  fighting  them  or  something, 
I  don't  quite  understand  it — anyhow  it's  all  done  now, 
and  I'm  going  to  hold  Pa  up  for  the  pearl  necklace  he 
promised  to  give  me.  There's  a  perfect  beauty  at  Setter 
&  Stoneberg's,  only  seventeen  thousand,  and  I  believe 
they'll  take  ten  if  it's  planked  down  in  cold  cash.  Pa 
says  the  way  to  get  a  man  is  to  put  down  the  cold  cash 
before  him  and  let  him  fasten  his  eye  on  it.  If  he's  a 
Jew  he  says  he'll  never  let  it  go.  I  tell  him  by  the  same 
token  he  must  be  a  Jew  himself;  because  he  holds  on 
to  all  the  money  he  ever  lays  his  eye  on." 

"Can  I  take  you  down- town  anywhere?"  inquired 
Miss  Leigh,  in  a  rather  neutral  voice. 

"No,  my  dear,  just  let  me  fix  my  hat.  I  have  to  go 
the  other  way.  In  fact,  I  told  the  Count  that  I  was 
going  up  to  the  park  for  a  little  spin,  and  he  asked  if 
he  couldn't  come  along.  I  didn't  want  him,  of  course 
— men  are  so  in  the  way  in  the  morning,  don't  you  think 
so?  Is  that  quite  right?"  She  gave  her  head  a  toss  to 
test  the  steadiness  of  her  hat. 

"Quite,"  said  Miss  Leigh. 

"Well,  good-by.  I'll  count  on  you  then.  Oh!  I  tell 
you — among  the  entertainments,  the  Count  is  going  to 
perform  some  wonderful  sleight-of-hand  tricks  with 
cards.  My  dear,  he's  a  magician !  He  can  do  anything 
with  cards.  Heavens!  it's  after  one.  The  Count— 
good-by — good-by." 

And  as  Miss  Leigh  entered  her  victoria  the  young 
111 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

lady  rushed  off,  up  the  street,  straining  her  eyes  in  the 
direction  of  the  park. 

That  night  "the  ball,"  as  Miss  McSheen  called  it, 
came  off  and  was  a  huge  success,  as  was  duly  chronicled 
in  all  the  morning  papers  next  day  with  an  elaboration 
of  description  of  millinery  in  exact  proportion  to  the 
degree  of  prominence  of  the  wearer  in  the  particular 
circle  in  which  the  editor  or  his  reporter  moved  or  as 
pired  to  move.  Mrs.  Argand  stood  first  in  "Wine-col 
ored  velvet,  priceless  lace,"  of  the  sort  that  reporters  of 
the  female  sex  deem  dearest,  and  "diamonds  and  ru 
bies"  that  would  have  staggered  Sinbad,  the  sailor. 
Miss  McSheen  ran  her  a  close  second,  in  "rose-colored 
satin,  and  sapphires,"  spoken  of  as  "priceless  heir 
looms."  Miss  Leigh  shone  lower  down  in  "chiffon, 
lace,  and  pearls  of  great  price."  So  they  went  columns- 
full,  all  priceless,  all  beautiful,  all  superlative,  till  super 
latives  were  exhausted,  and  the  imagination  of  the 
reporters  ran  riot  in  an  excess  of  tawdry  color  and 
English. 

Among  the  men  especially  lauded  were,  first,  a  certain 
Mr.  James  Canter,  son  and  partner  of  "the  famous  Mr. 
Canter,  the  capitalist  and  financier,"  who  gave  promise 
of  rivalling  his  father  in  his  "notorious  ability,"  and, 
secondly,  a  Count  Pushkin,  the  "distinguished  scion  of 
a  noble  house  of  international  reputation  who  was  hon 
oring  the  city  with  his  distinguished  presence,  and  was 
generally  credited  with  having  led  captive  the  heart  of 
one  of  the  city's  fairest  and  wealthiest  daughters."  So 
ran  the  record.  And  having  nothing  to  do,  I  read  that 

112 


A  NEW  GIRL 

morning  the  account  and  dwelt  on  the  only  name  I  rec 
ognized,  the  young  lady  of  the  white  chiffon  and  pearls, 
and  wondered  who  the  men  were  whose  names  stood 
next  to  hers. 


113 


XI 

ELEANOR  LEIGH 

Miss  Leigh  also  read  the  papers  that  morning  and 
with  much  amusement  till  in  one  of  them — the  most 
sensational  of  all  the  morning  journals — she  came  on 
an  article  which  first  made  her  heart  stop  beating  and 
then  set  it  to  racing  with  sheer  anger.  To  think  that 
such  a  slander  could  be  uttered!  She  would  have  liked 
to  make  mince-meat  of  that  editor.  He  was  always 
attacking  her  father. 

A  little  later  she  began  to  think  of  the  rest  of  the 
article!  What  was  the  truth ?  Did  they  have  the  right 
to  stop  the  train  and  hold  it  back  ?  This  sort  of  thing 
was  what  a  writer  whom  she  knew  denied  in  a  series  of 
papers  which  a  friend  of  hers,  a  young  clergyman  who 
worked  among  the  poor,  had  sent  her  and  which  the 
press  generally  was  denouncing. 

She  had  for  some  time  been  reading  these  papers 
that  had  been  appearing  in  the  press  periodically. 
They  were  written  by  a  person  who  was  generally 
spoken  of  as  "a  Jew/'  but  who  wrote  with  a  pen  which 
had  the  point  of  a  rapier,  and  whose  sentences  ate  into 
the  steely  plate  of  artificial  convention  like  an  acid. 
One  of  the  things  he  had  said  had  stuck  in  her  memory. 
"As  the  remains  of  animalculse  of  past  ages  furnish, 
when  compressed  in  almost  infinite  numbers,  the  lime- 
food  on  which  the  bone  and  muscle  of  the  present  race 

114 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

of  cattle  in  limestone  regions  are  built  up,  so  the  present 
big-boned  race  of  the  wealthy  class  live  on  the  multi 
tudinous  class  of  the  poor." 

The  summer  before  she  had  met  the  writer  of  these 
articles  and  he  had  made  an  impression  on  her  which 
had  not  been  effaced.  She  had  not  analyzed  her  feelings 
to  ascertain  how  far  this  impression  was  due  to  his  clas 
sical  face,  his  deep,  luminous  eyes,  and  his  impassioned 
manner,  yet  certain  it  is  that  all  of  these  had  struck  her. 

Perhaps,  I  should  give  just  here  a  little  more  of  Miss 
Eleanor  Leigh's  history  as  I  came  to  know  of  it  later  on. 
How  I  came  to  know  of  it  may  or  may  not  be  divulged 
later.  But,  at  least,  I  learned  it.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  a  gentleman  who,  until  she  came  and  began  to  tyran 
nize  over  him,  gave  up  all  of  his  time  and  talents  to 
building  up  enterprises  of  magnitude  and  amassing  a 
fortune.  He  had  showed  abilities  and  ambition  at 
college  "back  East,"  where  he  came  from,  and  when 
he  first  struck  for  the  West  and  started  out  in  life,  it  was 
in  a  region  and  amid  surroundings  which  were  just 
becoming  of  more  than  local  importance  as  they  a 
little  later  grew  under  the  guidance  of  men  of  action 
like  himself,  to  be  of  more  than  sectional  importance. 
The  new  West  as  it  was  then  had  called  to  him  im 
periously  and  he  had  responded.  Flinging  himself  into 
the  current  which  was  just  beginning  to  take  on  force, 
he  soon  became  one  of  the  pilots  of  the  development 
which,  changing  a  vast  region  where  roamed  Indians 
and  buffalo  into  a  land  of  cities  and  railways,  shortly 
made  its  mark  on  the  Nation  and,  indeed,  on  the 

115 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

world,  and  he  was  before  long  swept  quite  away  by  it, 
leaving  behind  all  the  intellectual  ambitions  and  dreams 
he  had  ever  cherished  and  giving  himself  up  soul  and 
body  to  the  pleasure  he  got  out  of  his  success  as  an 
organizer  and  administrator  of  large  enterprises. 
Wealth  at  first  was  important  to  him,  then  it  became,  if 
not  unimportant,  at  least  of  secondary  importance  to 
the  power  he  possessed.  Then  it  became  of  importance 
again — indeed  of  supreme  importance;  for  the  power 
he  wielded  was  now  dependent  on  wealth  and  great 
wealth.  His  associates  were  all  men  of  large  interests, 
and  only  one  with  similar  interests  could  lead  them. 
New  conditions  had  come  about  of  late  and  new 
methods  which  he  could  neither  employ  nor  contend 
against  successfully. 

As  he  looked  back  on  it  later  it  appeared  a  feverish 
dream  through  which  he  had  passed  Its  rewards  were 
undeniable:  luxury,  reputation  and  power  beyond  any 
thing  he  had  ever  conceived  of.  Yet  what  had  he  not 
sacrificed  for  them!  Everything  that  he  had  once  held 
up  before  his  mind  as  a  noble  ambition:  study,  reading, 
association  with  the  great  and  noble  of  all  time;  art  and 
love  of  art;  appreciation  of  all  except  wealth  that  men 
have  striven  for  through  the  ages;  friendship — domestic 
joy — everything  except  riches  and  the  power  they  bring. 
For  as  he  thought  over  his  past  in  his  growing  loneliness 
he  found  himself  compelled  to  admit  that  he  had  sacri 
ficed  all  the  rest.  He  had  married  a  woman  he  loved 
and  admired.  He  had  given  her  wealth  and  luxury  in 
stead  of  himself,  and  she  had  pined  and  died  before  he 

116 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

awakened  to  the  tragic  fact.  He  had  grieved  for  her, 
but  he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  the  brutal  fact 
that  she  had  ceased  years  before  to  be  to  him  as  neces 
sary  as  his  business.  She  had  left  him  one  child.  Two 
others  had  died  in  infancy,  and  he  had  mourned  for 
them  and  sympathized  with  her;  but  he  never  knew  for 
years,  and  until  too  late,  how  stricken  she  had  been  over 
their  loss.  The  child  she  had  left  him  had  in  some  way 
taken  hold  on  him  and  had  held  it  even  against  himself. 
She  had  so  much  of  himself  in  her  that  he  himself  could 
see  the  resemblance;  his  natural  kindness,  his  good  im 
pulses,  his  wilfulness,  his  resolution  and  ambition  to 
lead  and  to  succeed  in  all  he  undertook. 

Even  from  the  earliest  days  when  she  was  left  to  him, 
Mr.  Leigh  was  made  aware  by  Eleanor  that  he  had 
something  out  of  the  ordinary  to  deal  with.  The 
arrangement  by  which,  on  the  death  of  her  mother, 
she  was  taken  by  her  half-aunt,  Mrs.  Argand,  to  be 
cared  for,  "because  the  poor  child  needed  a  mother  to 
look  after  her,"  fell  through  promptly  when  the  little 
thing  who  had  rebelled  at  the  plan  appeared,  dusty  and 
dishevelled  but  triumphant,  in  her  father's  home  that 
first  evening,  as  he  was  preparing,  after  leaving  his 
office,  to  go  and  see  her.  It  was  doubtless  an  auspicious 
moment  for  the  little  rebel;  for  her  father  was  at  the 
instant  steeped  in  grief  and  loneliness  and  self-reproach. 
He  had  worked  like  fury  all  day  to  try  to  forget  his 
loss;  but  his  return  home  to  his  empty  house  had  torn 
open  his  wounds  afresh,  and  the  echoing  of  his  solitary 
footfall  on  the  stair  and  in  the  vacant  rooms  had  almost 

117 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

driven  him  to  despair.  Every  spot — every  turn  was  a 
red-hot  brand  on  the  fresh  wound.  No  man  had  loved 
his  wife  more;  but  he  awoke  now  when  too  late  to  the 
torturing  fact  that  he  had  left  her  much  alone.  He  had 
worked  for  her,  leaving  the  enjoyment  to  the  future; 
and  she  had  died  before  the  future  came,  in  that  deso 
late  present  which  was  to  be  linked  forever  to  the  irre 
trievable  past.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  he  heard  a 
familiar  step  outside  his  door.  His  heart  almost  stopped 
to  listen.  It  could  not  be  Eleanor — she  was  safe  at  her 
Aunt's,  blocks  away,  awaiting  the  fulfilment  of  his 
promise  to  come  to  see  her — and  it  was  now  dark. 
Could  it  be  a  delusion  ?  His  over- wrought  brain  might 
have  fancied  it.  Next  second  the  door  burst  open,  and 
in  rushed  Eleanor  with  a  cry — "Oh!  Papa!" 

"Why,  Nelly!    How  did  you  come!" 

"Slipped  out  and  ran  away!  You  did  not  come  and 
I  could  not  stay." 

When  the  emotion  of  the  first  greeting  was  over,  Mr. 
Leigh,  under  the  strong  sense  of  what  he  deemed  his 
duty  to  the  child,  and  also  to  the  dear  dead — which  had 
led  him  at  first  to  make  the  sacrifice  of  yielding  to  his 
sister-in-law's  urgency,  began  to  explain  to  the  little  girl 
the  impropriety  of  her  action,  and  the  importance  of 
her  returning  to  her  Aunt,  when  she  had  been  so  kind. 
But  he  found  it  a  difficult  task.  Mr.  Leigh  believed  in 
discipline.  He  had  been  brought  up  in  a  rigid  school, 
and  he  knew  it  made  for  character;  but  it  was  uphill 
work  with  the  little  girl's  arms  clasped  about  his  neck 
and  her  hot,  tear-streaked  little  face  pressed  close  to  his 

118 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

as  she  pleaded  and  met  his  arguments  with  a  prompt 
ness  and  an  aptness  which  astonished  him.  More 
over,  she  had  a  strong  advocate  in  his  own  heart,  and 
from  the  first  moment  when  she  had  burst  in  on  his 
heart-breaking  loneliness  he  had  felt  that  he  could  not 
let  her  go  again  if  she  were  unhappy. 

"She  would  not  go  back,"  she  asserted  defiantly. 
"She  hated  her  Aunt,  anyhow — she  was  a  hateful  old 
woman  who  scolded  her  servants;  and  sent  her  up-stairs 
to  her  supper." 

When  to  this  her  father  promptly  replied  that  she 
must  go  back,  and  he  would  take  her,  she  as  promptly 
changed  her  note. 

"Very  well,  she  would  go  back;  he  need  not  come 
with  her;  but  she  would  die." 

"Oh,  no,  you  will  not  die.  You  will  soon  grow  very 
fond  of  her." 

"Then  I  shall  grow  very  worldly,  like  her,"  said  Miss 
Precocity. 

"What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"Because  she  is  a  worldly  old  woman — and  you  said 
so  yourself." 

"I  said  so!  When?"  demanded  her  father,  with  a 
guilty  feeling  of  vague  recollection. 

"To  Mamma  once — when  Mamma  said  something 
against  her  husband,  you  said  that,  and  Mamma  said 
you  ought  not  to  say  that  about  her  sister— and  you  said 
she  was  only  her  half-sister,  anyhow,  and  not  a  bit  like 
her — and  now  you  want  to  send  me  back  to  her  as  if  I 
were  only  your  half-child." 

119 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

The  father  smiled  sadly  enough  as  he  drew  the  anxious 
little  face  close  to  his  own. 

" Oh!  no — You  are  all  mine,  and  my  all.  I  only  want 
to  do  what  is  right." 

"Mamma  wants  me  to  stay  with  you — so  it  must  be 
right." 

The  present  tense  used  by  the  child  struck  the  father 
to  the  heart. 

"What  makes  you  think  that?"  he  asked  with  a  sigh. 
The  little  girl  was  quick  to  catch  at  the  new  hope. 

"She  told  me  so  the  day  before  she  died,  when  I  was 
in  the  room  with  her;  she  said  you  would  be  lonely,  and 
I  must  be  a  comfort  to  you." 

Mr.  Leigh  gave  a  gasp  that  was  almost  a  groan,  and 
the  child  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"And  I  sha'n't  leave  you,  my  all-Papa,  unless  you 
drive  me;  I  promised  Mamma  I  would  stay  and  take 
care  of  you,  and  I  will.  And  you  won't  make  me — will 
you?  For  I  am  your  all-daughter — You  won't,  will 
you?" 

"No,  d d  if  I  do!"  said  the  father,  catching  her  to 

his  heart,  and  trying  to  smother  the  oath  as  it  burst 
from  his  lips. 

As  soon  as  she  had  quieted  down,  he  went  to  her 
Aunt's  to  make  the  necessary  explanation.  He  found  it 
not  the  easiest  task,  for  the  good  lady  had  her  own  ideas 
and  had  formed  her  plans,  and  the  change  was  a  blow 
to  her  amour  propre.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  beginning  of  the 
breach  between  Mr.  Leigh  and  his  sister-in-law  which 
led  eventually  to  the  antagonism  between  them. 

120 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

"You  are  going  to  spoil  that  child  to  death!"  ex 
claimed  the  affronted  lady.  This  Mr.  Leigh  denied, 
though  in  his  heart  he  thought  it  possible.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  interview,  for  Mrs.  Argand  was  deeply  of 
fended.  But  Mr.  Leigh  felt  that  it  was  well  worth  the 
cost  when,  on  his  return  home,  he  was  greeted  by  a  cry 
of  joy  from  the  top  of  the  stair  where  the  little  girl  sat 
in  her  dressing  gown  awaiting  him.  And  when  with  a 
cry  of  joy  she  came  rushing  down,  Cinderella-like,  drop 
ping  her  slipper  in  her  excitement,  and  flung  herself 
into  his  arms,  he  knew  that  life  had  begun  for  him  anew. 

Mr.  Leigh  was  quite  aware  of  the  truth  of  Mrs.  Ar- 
gand's  prophecy;  but  he  enjoyed  the  spoiling  of  his 
daughter,  which  she  had  foretold,  and  he  enjoyed 
equally  the  small  tyrannies  which  the  child  exercised 
over  him,  and  also  the  development  of  her  mind  as  the 
budding  years  passed. 

"Papa,"  she  said  one  day,  when  she  had  asked  him 
to  take  her  somewhere,  and  he  had  pleaded,  "business," 
"why  do  you  go  to  the  office  so  much?" 

"I  have  to  work  to  make  money  for  my  daughter," 
said  her  father,  stating  the  first  reason  that  suggested 
itself. 

"Are  you  not  rich  enough  now?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  am,  with  a  young  lady 
growing  up  on  my  hands,"  said  her  father  smiling. 

"Am  I  very  expensive?"  she  asked  with  a  sudden 
little  expression  of  gravity  coming  over  her  face. 

"No,  that  you  are  not,  my  dear — and  if  you  were, 
there  is  no  pleasure  on  earth  to  me  like  giving  it  to  you. 

121 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

That  is  one  of  my  chief  reasons  for  working  so  steadily, 
though  there  are  others." 

"I  have  plenty  of  money,"  said  Eleanor. 

"Then  you  are  happier  than  most  people,  who  don't 
know  when  they  have  plenty." 

"  Yes — you  see,  all  I  have  to  do  when  I  want  anything 
is  to  go  into  a  store  and  ask  for  it,  and  tell  them  I  am 
your  daughter,  and  they  let  me  have  it  at  once." 

"Oh  ho!"  said  her  father,  laughing,  "so  that  is  the 
way  you  buy  things,  is  it  ?  No  wonder  you  have  plenty. 
Well,  you'd  better  come  to  me  and  ask  for  what  you 
want." 

"I  think  the  other  is  the  easier  way,  and  as  you  say 
you  like  to  give  it  to  me,  I  don't  see  that  it  makes  any 
difference." 

Mr.  Leigh  decided  that  he  had  better  explain  the 
difference. 

"I  hate  rich  people,"  said  Eleanor  suddenly.  "They 
are  so  vulgar." 

"For  example?"  enquired  her  father  looking  with 
some  amusement  at  the  girl  whose  face  had  suddenly 
taken  on  an  expression  of  severe  priggishness. 

"Oh!  Aunt  Sophia  and  Milly  McSheen.  They  are 
always  talking  about  their  money." 

Mr.  Leigh's  eyes  were  twinkling. 

"You  must  not  talk  that  way  about  your  Aunt  Sophia 
— she  is  very  fond  of  you." 

"She  is  always  nagging  at  me — correcting  me." 

"She  wants  you  to  grow  up  to  be  a  fine  woman." 

"Like  her?"  said  Miss  Eleanor  pertly. 
122 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

Mr.  Leigh  felt  that  it  was  wise  to  check  this  line  of 
criticism,  and  he  now  spoke  seriously. 

"You  must  not  be  so  critical  of  your  Aunt.  She  is 
really  very  fond  of  you — and  she  was  your  mother's 
half-sister.  You  must  respect  her  and  love  her." 

"I  love  her,  but  I  don't  like  her.  She  and  Milly  Mc- 
Sheen  are  just  alike — always  boasting  of  what  they 
have,  and  do,  and  running  down  what  others  have,  and 
do." 

"Oh,  well,  it  takes  a  great  many  people  to  make  a 
world,"  said  Mr.  Leigh  indulgently.  Eleanor  felt  a 
want  of  sympathy  and  made  another  bid  for  it. 

"Milly  McSheen  says  that  her  father  is  going  to  be 
the  richest  man  in  this  town." 

"Ah!  who  is  talking  about  money  now?"  said  Mr. 
Leigh,  laughing. 

"I  am  not — I  am  merely  saying  what  she  said." 

"You  must  not  tell  the  silly  things  your  friends  say." 

"No— only  to  you— I  thought  you  said  I  must  tell  you 
everything.  But,  of  course,  if  you  don't  wish  me  to — 
I  won't." 

Mr.  Leigh  laughed  and  took  her  on  his  knee.  He 
was  not  quite  sure  whether  she  was  serious  or  was  only 
laughing  at  him,  but,  as  he  began  to  explain,  she  burst 
into  a  peal  of  merriment  over  her  victory. 

In  appearance  she  was  like  her  mother,  only  he 
thought  her  fairer— as  fair  as  he  had  thought  her  mother 
in  the  days  of  his  first  devotion ;  and  her  deeper  eyes  and 
firmer  features  were  an  added  beauty;  the  well-rounded 
chin  was  his  own.  Her  eyes,  deep  with  unfathomable 

123 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

depths,  and  mouth,  firm  even  with  its  delicate  beauty, 
had  come  from  some  ancestor  or  ancestress  who,  in 
some  generation  past,  had  faced  life  in  its  most  exacting 
form  with  undaunted  resolution  and,  haply,  had  faced 
death  with  equal  calm  for  some  belief  that  now  would 
scarcely  have  given  an  hour's  questioning.  So,  when 
she  grew  each  year,  developing  new  powers  and  charm 
and  constancy,  he  began  to  find  a  new  interest  in  life, 
and  to  make  her  more  his  companion  and  confidante 
than  he  had  ever  made  her  mother.  He  left  his  business 
oftener  to  see  her  than  he  had  left  it  to  see  her  mother; 
he  took  her  oftener  with  him  on  his  trips,  and  took  more 
trips,  that  he  might  have  her  company.  She  sat  at  the 
head  of  his  table,  and  filled  her  place  with  an  ability 
that  was  at  once  his  astonishment  and  his  pride. 

At  one  time,  as  she  changed  from  a  mere  child  to  a 
young  girl,  he  had  thought  of  marrying  again,  rather 
with  a  view  to  giving  her  a  guide  and  counsellor  than 
for  any  other  purpose.  Her  storminess,  however,  at  the 
mere  suggestion,  and  much  more,  her  real  grief,  had  led 
him  to  defer  the  plan  from  time  to  time,  until  now  she 
was  a  young  lady,  and  he  could  see  for  himself  that  she 
needed  neither  chaperon  nor  counsellor.  He  sometimes 
smiled  to  think  what  the  consequences  would  have  been 
had  he  taken  to  wife  the  soft,  kindly,  rather  common 
place  lady  whom  he  had  once  thought  of  as  his  daugh 
ter's  guardian.  A  domestic  fowl  in  the  clutches  of  a 
young  eagle  would  have  had  an  easier  time. 

One  phase  alone  in  her  development  had  puzzled  and 
baffled  him.  She  had  gone  off  one  spring  to  a  country 

124 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

neighborhood  in  another  State,  where  she  had  some  old 
relatives  on  her  mother's  side.  Mr.  Leigh  had  been  called 
to  Europe  on  business,  and  she  had  remained  there  until 
well  into  the  summer.  When  she  returned  she  was  not 
the  same.  Some  change  had  taken  place  in  her.  She 
had  gone  away  a  rollicking,  gay,  pleasure-loving,  and 
rather  selfish  young  girl — he  was  obliged  to  admit  that 
she  was  both  wilful  and  self-indulgent.  Even  his  affec 
tion  for  her  could  not  blind  his  eyes  to  this,  and  at  times 
it  had  given  him  much  concern,  for  at  times  there  was  a 
clash  in  which,  if  he  came  off  victor,  he  felt  it  was  at  a 
perilous  price — that,  possibly,  of  a  strain  on  her  obedi 
ence.  She  returned  a  full-grown  woman,  thoughtful 
and  self-sacrificing  and  with  an  aim— he  was  glad  it 
was  not  a  mission — and  as  her  aim  was  to  be  useful, 
and  she  began  with  him,  he  accepted  it  with  content 
ment.  She  talked  freely  of  her  visit;  spoke  warmly,  and 
indeed,  enthusiastically,  of  those  she  had  met  there. 
Among  these  were  a  young  country  preacher  and  a 
friend  of  his,  a  young  Jew.  But,  though  she  spoke  of 
both  with  respect,  the  praise  she  accorded  them  was  so 
equal  that  he  dismissed  from  his  mind  the  possibility 
that  she  could  have  been  seriously  taken  with  either  of 
them.  Possibly,  the  Jew  was  the  one  she  was  most 
enthusiastic  over,  but  she  spoke  of  him  too  openly  to 
cause  her  father  disquietude.  Besides,  he  was  a  Jew. 

The  preacher  she  plainly  respected  most  highly,  yet 
her  account  of  his  appearance  was  too  humorous  to 
admit  a  serious  feeling  for  him,  even  though  she  had 
gotten  him  called  to  be  one  of  Dr.  Capon's  assistants. 

125 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

What  had  happened  was  that  the  girl,  who  had  only 
"  lain  in  the  lilies  and  fed  on  the  roses  of  life,"  had  sud 
denly  been  dropped  in  an  out-of-the-way  corner  in  a 
country  neighborhood  in  an  old  State,  where  there  were 
neither  lilies  nor  roses  of  the  metaphorical  kind,  though 
a  sufficiency  of  the  real  and  natural  kind,  with  which 
nature  in  compensatory  mood  atones  to  those  who  have 
of  the  metaphorical  sort  but  thistles  and  brambles  and 
flinty  soil. 

When  she  first  landed  there,  after  the  very  first  ex 
citement  of  being  thrown  into  a  wholly  new  situation, 
among  strangers  whom,  though  her  relatives,  she  had 
always  regarded  much  as  she  had  regarded  geographical 
places  in  distant  lands,  was  over,  she  found  herself,  as 
it  were,  at  a  loss  for  occupation.  Everything  was  so 
quiet  and  calm.  She  felt  lost  and  somewhat  bored.  But 
after  a  little  time  she  found  occupation  in  small  things, 
as  on  looking  closely  she  discovered  beauties  in  Nature 
which  her  first  glance  had  failed  to  catch.  The  people 
appeared  so  novel,  so  simple,  so  wholly  different  from  all 
whom  she  had  known;  the  excitements  and  amusements 
and  interests  of  her  life  in  the  city,  or  at  summer  water* 
ing-places,  or  in  travelling,  were  not  only  unknown  to 
them — as  unknown  as  if  they  were  in  another  planet,  but 
were  matters  of  absolute  indifference.  Their  interest 
was  in  their  neighbors,  in  the  small  happenings  about 
them;  and  occurrences  an  hundred  miles  away  were  as 
distant  to  them  as  though  they  had  taken  place  in 
another  era.  Among  the  few  notabilities  in  this  rural 
community  was  a  young  clergyman  whom  she  always 

126 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

heard  spoken  of  with  respect— as  much  respect,  indeed, 
as  if  he  had  been  a  bishop.  What  "Mr.  Marvel 
thought"  and  what  he  said  was  referred  to,  or  was 
quoted  as  something  to  be  considered— so  much  so  that 
she  had  insensibly  formed  a  picture  in  her  own  mind  of 
a  quite  remarkable  looking  and  impressive  person. 
When,  at  last,  she  met  John  Marvel,  what  was  her 
amusement  to  discover,  in  place  of  her  young  Antinous, 
a  stout,  strapping  young  fellow,  with  rather  bristly  hair, 
very  near-sighted  and  awkward,  and  exceedingly  shy, 
a  person  as  far  from  a  man  of  the  world  as  a  stout, 
country-bred  cart-horse  would  be  from  a  sleek  trick- 
pony.  His  timidity  in  her  presence  caused  her  endless 
amusement,  and  for  lack  of  some  better  diversion  and 
partly  to  scandalize  her  staid  kinswomen,  she  set  her 
self  to  tease  him  in  every  way  that  her  fertile  brain 
could  devise. 

Visiting  the  young  clergyman  at  the  time  was  a  friend 
who  came  much  nearer  being  in  appearance  what 
Eleanor  had  imagined  John  Marvel  to  be:  a  dark, 
slender  young  man  with  a  classical  face,  but  that  its 
lines  were  stronger  and  more  deeply  graven,  and  un 
forgettable  eyes.  He  had  just  come  to  visit  Mr.  Marvel 
and  to  get  a  needed  rest,  John  Marvel  said.  He  had 
been  a  worker  among  the  poor,  and  his  views  were  so 
different  from  any  that  Eleanor  Leigh  had  ever  heard 
as  to  appear  almost  shocking.  He  was  an  educated 
man,  yet  he  had  lived  and  worked  as  an  artisan.  He 
was  a  gentleman,  yet  he  denounced  vehemently  the 
conditions  which  produced  the  upper  class.  But  an 

127 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

even  greater  surprise  awaited  her  when  he  announced 
that  he  was  a  Jew. 

When  John  Marvel  brought  his  friend  to  see  Miss 
Eleanor  Leigh,  the  first  impression  that  she  received 
was  one  of  pleasure.  He  was  so  striking  and  unusual 
looking — with  deep,  burning  eyes  under  dark  brows. 
Then  she  was  not  sure  that  she  liked  him,  she  even 
thought  she  was  sensible  of  a  sort  of  repulsion.  She 
had  a  feeling  as  if  he  were  weighing  her  in  his  mind 
and,  not  approving  of  her,  treated  her  at  times  with  in 
difference,  at  times  with  a  certain  disdain.  She  was 
conscious  of  an  antagonism  as  Wolffert  showed  scorn 
of  conditions  and  things  which  she  had  been  brought 
up  to  believe  almost  as  much  a  necessary  part  of  life 
as  air  and  light.  She  promptly  began  to  argue  with 
him,  but  when  she  found  that  he  usually  had  the  best 
of  the  argument,  she  became  more  careful  how  she 
opened  herself  to  his  attack.  He  aroused  in  her  the 
feeling  of  opposition.  His  scorn  of  the  money-making 
spirit  of  the  day  led  her  to  defend  what  she  secretly 
held  in  contempt.  And  once  when  he  had  been  in 
veighing  against  commercialism  that  set  up  Gods  of 
Brass  to  worship,  and  declared  that  it  was  the  old 
story  of  Nebuchadnezzar  over  again — and  was  the  fore 
runner  to  brotherhood  with  the  beasts  of  the  field,  she 
wheeled  on  him,  declaring  that  it  was  "  only  people  who 
had  no  power  to  make  money  who  held  such  views." 

"Do  you  think  that  I  could  not  make  money  if  I 
wished  to  do  so  ?"  said  Wolffert  quietly,  with  an  amused 
light  in  his  eyes  as  they  rested  on  her  with  an  expression 

128 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

which  was  certainly  not  hostile;  for  her  eagerness  had 
brought  warm  blood  to  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  were 
sparkling  with  the  glow  of  contention. 

"Yes,  if  you  were  able  you  would  be  as  rich  as  a 
Jew." 

A  yet  more  amused  look  came  into  Wolffert's  eyes. 

"Are  all  Jews  rich?"  he  asked. 

"Yes — all  who  are  capable — you  know  they  are." 

"  No,  for  I  am  a  Jew  and  I  am  not  rich,"  said  Wolffert. 

"What!  You! — You  a —  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon! 
I — "she  blushed  deeply. 

"Pray  don't  apologize — don't  imagine  that  I  am 
offended.  Would  you  be  offended  if  I  charged  you  with 
coming  from  a  race  of  poets  and  philosophers  and  sci 
entists — of  a  race  that  had  given  the  world  its  literature 
and  its  religion  ?  " 

She  burst  out  laughing. 

"No;  but  I  was  such  a  fool — pray  forgive  me."  She 
held  out  her  hand  and  Wolffert  took  it  and  pressed  it 
firmly — and  this  was  the  beginning  of  their  friendship. 

Wolffert  walked  home  slowly  that  evening,  that  is, 
across  the  fields  to  the  little  farmhouse  where  John 
Marvel  lived.  He  had  food  for  thought. 

When  Eleanor  Leigh  saw  John  Marvel  a  few  days 
later  she  told  him  of  her  conversation  and  the  speech 
she  had  made  to  his  friend.  "You  know,"  said  John, 
"  that  he  is  rich  or  could  be,  if  he  chose  to  go  home.  His 
father  is  very  rich." 

"He  is  a  new  Jew  to  me,"  said  Eleanor  Leigh;  "he 
is  quite  different  from  the  typical  Jew." 

129 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  wonder  if  there  is  a  typical  Jew,"  questioned  John 
to  himself,  and  this  set  Eleanor  wondering  too. 

But  Eleanor  Leigh  found  other  causes  for  wonder  in 
Wolf fert  besides  the  salient  fact  of  his  race  which  she  had 
mentioned  to  her  cousins,  and  they  forced  upon  her  the 
consciousness  that  she  would  have  to  readjust  her  ideas 
of  many  things  as  she  had  been  compelled  to  do  in  re 
gard  to  the  appearance  and  aims  of  this  singular  people. 
Her  idea  of  the  Israelites  had  always  been  curiously 
connoted  with  hooked  noses,  foreign  speech  of  a  far 
from  refined  type,  and  a  persistent  pursuit  of  shekels  by 
ways  generally  devious  and  largely  devoted  to  shops 
containing  articles  more  or  less  discarded  by  other 
people.  Here  she  found  a  cultivated  gentleman  with 
features,  if  not  wholly  classical,  at  least  more  regular 
and  refined  than  those  of  most  young  men  of  her 
acquaintance;  speech  so  cultivated  as  to  be  quite  dis 
tinguished,  and  an  air  and  manner  so  easy  and  gracious 
as  to  suggest  to  her  complete  knowledge  of  the  great 
world.  No  matter  what  subject  was  discussed  between 
them,  he  knew  about  it  more  than  any  one  else,  and 
always  threw  light  on  it  which  gave  it  a  new  interest  for 
her.  He  had  a  knowledge  of  the  Literature  and  Art, 
not  only  of  the  ancients,  but  of  most  modern  nations, 
and  he  talked  to  her  of  things  of  which  she  had  never 
so  much  as  heard.  He  had  not  only  travelled  exten 
sively  in  Europe,  but  had  travelled  in  a  way  to  give  him 
an  intimate  knowledge  not  merely  of  the  countries,  but 
of  the  people  and  customs  of  the  countries  which  no 
one  she  had  ever  met  possessed.  He  had  crossed  in  the 

130 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

steerage  of  ocean-liners  more  than  once  and  had  stoked 
across  both  to  England  and  the  Mediterranean. 

"But  what  made  you  do  it?"  she  asked.  "Did  not 
you  find  it  terrible?" 

"Yes — pretty  bad."  Wolffert  was  at  the  moment 
showing  her  how  tea  was  made  in  certain  provinces 
along  the  Caspian  Sea  which  he  had  visited  not  long 
before.  "About  as  bad  as  it  could  be." 

"Then  what  made  you  do  it  ?" 

"Well,  I  saved  money  by  it,  too." 

What  the  other  reason  was  she  did  not  press  him  to 
give.  She  only  thought,  "That  is  the  Jew  of  it."  But 
after  she  had  seen  more  of  him  she  discovered  that  the 
other  reason  was  that  he  might  learn  by  personal  ex 
perience  what  the  condition  was  in  the  emigrant  ships 
and  the  holes  where  the  stokers  lived  deep  down  amid 
the  coal-bunkers  and  the  roaring  furnaces,  and  further, 
that  he  might  know  the  people  themselves.  Incidentally, 
he  had  learned  there  and  elsewhere  Italian  and  Russian, 
with  the  strange  Hebraic  faculty  of  absorbing  whatever 
he  came  in  touch  with,  but  he  thought  no  more  of  know 
ing  that  than  of  knowing  Yiddish. 

It  was  this  study  of  conditions  that  finally  gave  her 
the  key  to  his  design  in  life,  for  it  developed  as  their 
acquaintance  grew  that  this  clear-headed,  cultivated, 
thoughtful  man  held  strange  views  as  to  the  ordinary 
things  of  life,  the  things  which  she  had  always  accepted 
as  as  fundamental  and  unchangeable  as  the  solid  earth 
or  the  vaguely  comprehended  but  wholly  accepted  revo 
lution  of  the  spheres.  In  fact,  he  held  that  the  condi- 

131 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

tions  of  modern  life,  the  relations  of  people  in  mass, 
which  she  had  somehow  always  considered  as  almost 
perfect  and,  indeed,  divinely  established,  were  absolutely 
outworn  and  fundamentally  unrighteous  and  unjust. 
She  at  first  did  not  take  him  seriously.  She  could  not. 
To  find  a  pleasant  and,  indeed,  rather  eloquent-spoken 
young  man  denounce  as  wicked  and  vile  usurpation  the 
establishment  of  competitive  enterprises,  and  the  accu 
mulation  of  capital  by  captains  of  industry,  appeared 
to  her  almost  impious.  Yet,  there  he  sat  with  burning 
eyes  and  thrilling  voice  denouncing  the  very  things  she 
had  always  considered  most  commendable.  "Why, 
that  is  Socialism,  isn't  it?"  she  asked,  feeling  that  if  she 
could  convict  him  of  this  somewhat  vaguely  comprehend 
ed  term  she  would  prove  her  old  foundations  unshaken. 

Wolffert  smiled.  He  was  very  good-looking  when  he 
smiled.  "  No,  not  exactly — if  it  is,  it  is  only  an  elemen 
tary  and  individual  kind  of  Socialism;  but  it  is  Social 
ism  so  far  as  it  is  based  on  a  profound  desire  to  recon 
struct  society  and  to  place  it  on  a  natural  and  equitable 
social  foundation  where  every  one  shall  have  a  chance 
to  work  and  to  reap  the  fruit  of  such  work." 

"What  is  Socialism?"  she  demanded  suddenly. 

"  It  is  not  what  you  mean  by  the  term,"  he  laughed. 
"It  is  not  taking  the  property  of  those  who  have  worked 
for  it  and  giving  to  those  who  neither  have  worked  nor 
will  work — that  is  what  you  have  in  mind." 

"Precisely,"  she  nodded. 

"It  is — at  least,  the  Socialism  I  mean — the  applica 
tion  of  the  same  method  of  general  order  by  the  people 

132 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

at  large  to  labor  and  the  product  of  labor:  property — that 
is  now  employed  in  Government.  The  reconstruction 
of  the  present  methods  so  that  all  should  participate 
both  in  the  labor,  and  in  the  product."  He  went  on  to 
picture  glowingly  the  consequences  of  this  Utopian 
scheme  when  all  men  should  work  and  all  should  reap. 
But  though  he  made  it  appear  easy  enough  to  him, 
Eleanor  Leigh's  practical  little  head  saw  the  difficulties 
and  the  flaws  much  more  readily  than  the  perfect  result 
which  he  appeared  to  find  so  certain. 

"You  cannot  reconstruct  human  nature,"  she  pro 
tested,  "and  when  you  shall  have  gotten  your  system 
thoroughly  under  way,  those  who  have  gotten  in  posi 
tions  of  power  will  use  their  advantage  for  their  own 
benefit,  and  then  you  will  still  have  to  begin  all  over 
again."  But  WolfTert  was  certain  of  the  result  and 
pointed  out  the  work  of  his  friend  John  Marvel  as  a 
proof  of  his  theory. 

While,  at  first,  the  broad-shouldered  young  clergyman 
fled  from  her  presence  with  a  precipitation  which  was 
laughable,  it  was  not  long  before  he  appeared  to  have 
steeled  himself  sufficiently  against  her  shafts  of  good- 
natured  persiflage  to  be  able  to  tolerate  her  presence, 
and  before  a  great  while  had  passed,  her  friends  began 
to  tease  her  on  the  fact  that  wherever  she  went  Mr. 
Marvel  was  pretty  sure  to  appear.  One  of  her  old 
cousins,  half-rallyingly  and  half-warningly,  cautioned 
her  against  going  too  far  with  the  young  man,  saying, 
"  Mr.  Marvel,  my  dear,  is  too  good  a  man  for  you  to 
amuse  yourself  with,  and  then  fling  away.  What  is  sim- 

133 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ply  the  diversion  of  an  hour  for  you,  may  become  a  matter 
of  real  gravity  with  him.  He  is  already  deeply  inter 
ested  in  you  and  unless  you  are  interested  in  him " 

"Why,  I  am  interested  in  him,"  declared  the  girl, 
laughing.  "Why,  he  tells  me  of  all  the  old  sick  women 
and  cats  in  the  parish  and  I  have  an  engagement  to  go 
around  with  him  and  see  some  old  women  to-morrow. 
You  ought  to  see  some  that  we  went  to  visit  the  other 
day!" 

"  I  know,  my  dear,  but  you  must  not  make  fun  of  his 
work.  He  is  happy  in  it  and  is  accomplishing  a  great 
deal  of  good,  and  if  you  should  get  him  dissatisfied " 

"Oh,  no,  indeed;  I  gave  him  some  money  last  week 
for  a  poor  family  to  get  some  clothes  so  that  they  could 
come  to  church.  They  were  named  Banyan.  They  live 
near  the  mines.  The  whole  family  were  to  be  christened 
next  Sunday,  and  what  do  you  suppose  they  did  ?  As 
soon  as  they  got  the  clothes  they  went  last  Sunday  to  a 
big  baptizing  and  were  all  immersed!  I  was  teasing 
him  about  that  when  you  heard  me  laughing  at  him." 

"The  wretches!"  exclaimed  her  cousin.  "To  think 
of  their  deceiving  him  so!" 

"I  know,"  said  the  girl.  "But  I  think  he  minded 
the  deception  much  more  than  the  other.  Though  I 
charged  him  with  being  disappointed  at  not  getting  them 
into  his  fold,  really,  I  don't  think  he  minded  it  a  bit. 
At  least,  he  said  he  would  much  rather  they  had  gone 
where  they  would  be  happy." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Marvel's  friend,  Mr.  Wolff ert,  is  a  different 
matter.  He  appears  quite  able  to  take  care  of  himself." 

134 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

"Quite,"  said  Miss  Leigh  dryly. 

"  But,  my  dear,"  said  her  cousin,  lowering  her  voice, 
"they  say  he  is  a  Jew." 

"He  is,"  said  Eleanor. 

"You  know  it?" 

"Yes,  he  told  me  so  himself." 

"Told  you  himself!  Why,  I  thought—!  How  did 
he  come  to  tell  you  ?  " 

"Why,  I  don't  know.  We  were  talking  and  I  said 
something  foolish  about  the  Jews — about  some  one 
being  'as  rich  and  stingy  as  a  Jew/  and  he  smiled  and 
said,  '  Are  all  Jews  rich — and  stingy  ? '  And  I  said,  '  If 
they  have  a  chance/  and  he  said,  'Not  always.  I  am 
a  Jew  and  I  am  not  rich.'  Well,  I  thought  he  was  fool 
ing,  just  teasing  me— so  I  went  on,  and  do  you  know 
he  is  not  only  a  Jew,  but  Mr.  Marvel  says  he  is  rich, 
only  he  does  not  claim  his  money  because  he  is  a  Social 
ist.  Mr.  Marvel  says  he  could  go  home  to-morrow  and 
his  father  would  take  him  and  lavish  money  on  him; 
but  he  works — works  all  the  time  among  the  poor." 

"Well,  I  must  say  I  always  liked  him,"  said  her  cousin. 

"But  he  isn't  such  good  fun  to  tease  as  Mr.  Marvel 
— he  is  too  intense.  Mr.  Marvel  does  get  so  red  and 
unhappy-looking  when  he  is  teased." 

"Well,  you  have  no  right  to  tease  him.  He  is  a 
clergyman  and  should  be  treated  with  respect.  You 
wouldn't  dare  to  tease  your  rector  in  town — the  great 
Dr.  —  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"Oh!  wouldn't  I?  Dr.  Bartholomew  Capon.  Why, 
he  is  one  of  the  greatest  beaux  in  town.  He's  always 

135 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

running  around  to  see  some  girl — ogling  them  with  his 
big  blue  eyes." 

"Eleanor!"  exclaimed  her  cousin  reprovingly. 

"Why,  he'd  marry  any  one  of  the  Canter  girls  who 
would  have  him,  or  Aunt  Sophia,  or — 

"Eleanor,  don't  be  profane." 

The  old  lady  looked  so  shocked  ^iat  the  girl  ran 
over  and  kissed  her,  with  a  laugh. 

"Why,  I've  told  him  so." 

"Told  him?    You  haven't!" 

"Yes,  I  have.  I  told  him  so  when  he  tried  to  marry 
me.  Then  he  tried  Aunt  Sophia." 

"What!  Eleanor,  you  are  incorrigible.  You  really 
are.  But  do  tell  me  about  it.  Did  he  really  court  you  ? 
Why,  he's  old  enough  to  be  your " 

"Grandfather,"  interrupted  the  girl.  "That's  what 
I  told  him,  substantially." 

"Served  him  right,  too.  But  he  must  be  a  fine 
preacher  from  what  my  old  friend,  Pansy  Tipps,  once 
wrote  me.  Did  you  ever  meet  Pansy  Tipps  ?  She  and 
her  sister  live  in  your  city.  They  went  there  years  ago 
to  press  a  claim  they  had  to  a  large  fortune  left  them  by 
their  father,  Colonel  Tipps',  who  used  to  be  a  very  rich 
man,  but  left  his  affairs  somewhat  complicated,  I  gather 
from  what  Pansy  writes  me,  or  did  write,  for  she  does 
not  write  very  often  now.  I  wish  you'd  go  and  see  them 
when  you  go  back." 

"  I  will,"  said  Eleanor.    "  Where  do  they  live  ?  " 

"At  a  Mrs.  Kale's — she  keeps  a  boarding-house — 
I  don't  know  the  exact  location,  and  mislaid  Pansy's 

136 


ELEANOR  LEIGH 

letter  a  year  or  more  ago,  but  you  will  have  no  difficulty 
in  finding  it.    It  must  be  in  the  fashionable  quarter  and 
I  should  think  any  one  could  tell  you  where  she  lives." 
"  I  will  find  her,"  said  Eleanor,  laughing. 


137 


XII 

JOHN  MARVEL 

When,  a  little  later,  a  scourge  of  diphtheria  broke  out 
in  a  little  mining  camp  not  far  from  the  home  of  Miss 
Leigh's  relatives  and  she  learned  that  John  Marvel 
spent  all  his  time  nursing  the  sick  and  relieving  their 
necessities  as  far  as  possible,  she  awakened  to  a  realiza 
tion  of  the  truth  of  what  her  cousin  had  said,  that  under 
his  awkward  exterior  lay  a  mine  of  true  gold. 

Day  by  day  reports  came  of  the  spread  of  the  deadly 
pestilence,  making  inroads  in  every  family,  baffling  the 
skill  and  outstripping  the  utmost  efforts  of  the  local 
physician;  day  by  day,  the  rumor  came  that  wherever 
illness  appeared  there  was  John  Marvel. 

One  afternoon  Miss  Leigh,  who  had  ridden  over  in 
the  direction  of  the  mining  village  to  try  and  get  some 
information  about  the  young  clergyman,  who,  a  rumor 
said,  had  been  stricken  himself  the  day  before,  came  on 
him  suddenly  in  a  by-path  among  the  hills.  At  sight  of 
her  he  stopped  and  held  up  his  hand  in  warning,  and 
at  the  warning  she  reined  in  her  horse. 

"Don't  come  nearer,"  he  called  to  her. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?"  she  asked.  "How  are  you ?" 
For  even  at  that  distance — perhaps,  some  fifty  paces — 
she  could  see  that  he  looked  wretchedly  worn  and  wan. 

"Oh,  I'm  doing  very  well,"  he  replied.  "How  are 
you?  You  must  not  come  this  way!  Turnback!" 

138 


JOHN  MARVEL 

She  began  to  rein  her  horse  around  and  then,  on  a 
sudden,  as  his  arm  fell  to  his  side,  and,  stepping  a  little 
out  of  the  path,  he  leant  against  a  tree,  the  whole  situa 
tion  struck  her.  Wheeling  her  horse  back,  she  rode 
straight  up  to  him  though  he  stiffened  up  and  waved 
her  back. 

"You  are  ill,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  no.  I  am  not  ill,  I  am  only  a  bit  tired;  that  is 
all.  You  must  not  come  this  way — go  back!" 

"But  why?"  she  persisted,  sitting  now  close  above 
him. 

"  Because — because — there  is  sickness  here.  A  fam 
ily  there  is  down."  He  nodded  back  toward  the 
curve  around  which  he  had  just  come.  "The  Banyan 
family  are  all  ill,  and  I  am  just  going  for  help." 

"I  will  go— I,  at  least,  can  do  that.  What  help? 
What  do  you  want?" 

She  had  tightened  the  rein  on  her  horse  and  turned 
his  head  back. 

"Everything.  The  mother  and  three  children  are 
all  down;  the  father  died  a  few  days  ago.  Send  the 
doctor  and  anything  that  you  can  find — food — clothing 
— medicine — some  one  to  nurse  them — if  you  can  find 
her.  It  is  the  only  chance." 

"I  will."  She  hesitated  a  moment  and  looked  down 
at  him,  as  if  about  to  speak,  but  he  waved  her  off.  "  Go, 
you  must  not  stay  longer." 

He  had  moved  around  so  that  the  wind,  instead  of 
blowing  from  him  toward  her,  blew  from  the  other  side 
of  her. 

139 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

A  moment  later  Eleanor  Leigh  was  galloping  for  life 
down  the  steep  bridle-path.  It  was  a  breakneck  gait, 
and  the  path  was  rough  enough  to  be  perilous,  but  she 
did  not  heed  it.  It  was  the  first  time  in  all  her  life  that 
she  had  been  conscious  that  she  could  be  of  real  use. 
She  felt  that  she  was  galloping  in  a  new  world.  From 
house  to  house  she  rode,  but  though  all  were  sympa 
thetic,  there  was  no  one  to  go.  Those  who  might  have 
gone,  were  elsewhere — or  were  dead.  The  doctor  was 
away  from  home  attending  at  other  bedsides  and,  by 
the  account  given,  had  been  working  night  and  day 
until  he  could  scarcely  stand.  Riding  to  the  nearest 
telegraph  station,  the  girl  sent  a  despatch  to  a  doctor 
whom  she  knew  in  the  city  where  she  lived,  begging  him 
to  come  or  to  send  some  one  on  the  first  train  and  say 
ing  that  he  would  be  met  and  that  she  would  meet  all 
his  expenses.  Then  she  sat  down  and  wrote  a  note  to 
her  cousin.  And  two  hours  later,  just  as  the  dusk  was 
falling,  she  rode  up  to  the  door  of  a  country  cabin  back 
among  the  hills.  As  she  softly  pushed  open  the  door, 
with  her  arm  full  of  bundles,  a  form  rose  from  the  side 
of  a  bed  and  stood  before  her  in  the  dusk  of  the  room. 

"My  God!  you  must  not  come  in  here.  Why  have 
you  come  here?" 

"To  help  you,"  said  the  girl. 

"But  you  must  not  come  in.  Go  out.  You  must," 
said  John  Marvel. 

"  No,  I  have  come  to  stay.  I  could  not  live  if  I  did  not 
stay  now."  She  pushed  her  way  in.  "Here  are  some 
things  I  have  brought.  I  have  telegraphed  for  a  doctor." 

140 


JOHN  MARVEL 

It  was  long  before  she  could  satisfy  John  Marvel,  but 
she  staid,  and  all  that  night  she  worked  with  him  over 
the  sick  and  the  dying.  All  that  night  they  two  strove 
to  hold  Death  at  bay,  across  those  wretched  beds. 
Once,  indeed,  he  had  struck  past  their  guard  and 
snatched  a  life;  but  they  had  driven  him  back  and  saved 
the  others.  Ere  morning  came  one  of  the  children  had 
passed  away;  but  the  mother  and  the  other  children 
survived;  and  Eleanor  Leigh  knew  that  John  Marvel, 
now  on  his  knees,  now  leaning  over  the  bed  administer 
ing  stimulants,  had  saved  them. 

As  Eleanor  Leigh  stepped  out  into  the  morning  light, 
she  looked  on  a  new  earth,  as  fair  as  if  it  had  just  been 
created,  and  it  was  a  new  Eleanor  Leigh  who  gazed 
upon  it.  The  tinsel  of  frivolity  had  shrivelled  and 
perished  in  the  fire  of  that  night.  Sham  had  laid  bare 
its  shallow  face  and  fled  away  Life  had  taken  on 
reality.  She  had  seen  a  man,  and  thenceforth  only  a 
man  could  command  her. 

The  physician  came  duly,  sent  up  by  the  one  she  had 
telegraphed  to;  rode  over  to  the  Banyan  house,  and 
later  to  the  village,  where  he  pronounced  the  disease 
diphtheria  and  the  cause  probably  defective  drainage 
and  consequent  impregnation  of  the  water  supply; 
wrote  a  prescription;  commended  the  country  doctor 
returned  home,  and  duly  charged  nearly  half  as  much 
as  the  country  doctor  got  in  a  year,  which  Miss  Leigh 
duly  paid  with  thoughts  of  John  Marvel.  This  was 
what  made  the  change  in  the  girl  which  her  father  had 
noted. 

141 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

No  novelist  can  give  all  of  a  hero's  or  a  heroine's  life. 
He  must  take  some  especial  phase  and  develop  his 
characters  along  that  line,  otherwise  he  would  soon 
overload  his  boat  and  swamp  his  reader's  patience. 
He  is  happy  who  having  selected  his  path  of  action  does 
not  wear  out  the  reader  in  asking  him  to  follow  even 
this  one  line.  Thus,  it  is  possible  to  give  only  a  part 
of  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh's  relation  to  life,  and  naturally 
the  part  selected  is  that  which  had  also  its  relation  to 
John  Marvel. 

If  it  be  supposed  by  any  one  that  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh 
devoted  her  entire  time  and  thought  to  working  among 
the  poor  he  is  greatly  mistaken.  John  Marvel  and  Leo 
Wolff ert  did  this:  but  Miss  Leigh  was  far  from  living 
the  consecrated  life.  She  only  made  it  a  part  of  her 
life,  that  is  all,  and  possibly  this  was  the  best  for  her  to 
do.  The  glimpse  which  she  got  at  the  death-bed  in 
the  Banyan  cottage  that  night  when  she  went  to  help 
John  Marvel  fight  death,  tore  the  veil  from  her  eyes 
and  gave  her  a  revelation  of  a  life  of  which  she  had  never 
dreamed  till  then,  though  it  lay  all  about  her  in  its 
tragic  nakedness — but  while  it  gave  her  pause  and 
inspired  her  with  a  sincere  wish  to  help  the  poor — or, 
possibly,  to  help  John  Marvel  and  Leo  Wolffert,  it 
did  not  change  her  nature  or  make  her  a  missionary. 
An  impulse,  whatever  its  ultimate  action,  does  not  revo 
lutionize.  She  still  retained  the  love  of  pleasure  natural 
to  all  young  creatures.  The  young  tree  shoots  up  by 
nature  into  the  sun.  She  still  took  part  in  the  gay  life 
about  her,  and,  if  possible,  found  a  greater  zest  in  it  for 

142 


JOHN  MARVEL 

the  consciousness  that  she  had  widened  her  horizon  and 
discovered  more  interests  outside  of  the  glittering  little 
brazen  circle  in  which  her  orbit  had  been  hitherto  con 
fined.  She  had  immediately  on  returning  home  inter 
ested  herself  to  secure  for  John  Marvel  an  invitation 
from  Dr.  Capon,  her  rector,  to  become  one  of  his 
assistants  and  take  charge  of  an  outlying  chapel  which 
he  had  built  in  the  poorest  district  of  the  town,  moved 
thereto  by  a  commendable  feeling  that  the  poor  should 
have  the  gospel  preached  to  them  and  that  his  church 
should  not  allow  all  the  honors  to  go  to  other  churches, 
particularly  that  of  Rome.  Dr.  Capon  prided  himself 
and  was  highly  esteemed  by  his  fellows — that  is,  the 
upper  officials,  clergy,  and  laity  alike — on  his  ability 
to  obtain  from  his  people  the  funds  needed  to  extend 
what  was  known  as  "  the  work  of  the  Parish,"  by  which 
was  signified  mainly  the  construction  of  buildings, 
additions  thereto,  embellishments  thereof,  and  stated 
services  therein,  and,  incidentally,  work  among  the  poor 
for  whom  the  buildings  were  supposed  to  have  been 
planned.  The  buildings  having  all  been  erected  and 
paid  for  and  due  report  and  laudation  thereof  having 
been  made,  it  was  found  rather  more  difficult  to  fill  them 
than  had  been  previously  anticipated.  And  it  was  set 
down  somewhat  to  the  perversity  of  the  poor  that  they 
refused  the  general  invitation  extended  them  to  come 
and  be  labelled  and  patronized  with  words  and  smiles 
quite  as  unctuous  as  benignant. 

Dr.  Capon  had  not  the  reputation  of  getting  on  quite 
comfortably  with  his  assistants.    The  exactions  of  his 

143 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

type  of  success  had  made  him  a  business  man.  As  his 
power  of  organization  increased,  spirituality  dwindled. 
He  dealt  more  with  the  rich  and  less  with  the  poor.  He 
had  the  reputation  of  being  somewhat  exacting  in  his 
demands  on  them,  and  of  having  a  somewhat  over 
weening  sense  of  his  own  importance  and  authority. 
Bright  young  men  either  declined  altogether  his  sugges 
tions  of  the  whiteness  of  the  harvest  in  the  purlieus  of 
the  city,  or,  having  been  led  into  accepting  positions 
under  him,  soon  left  him  for  some  country  parish  or  less 
imposing  curacy — an  exotic  word  which  the  Doctor 
himself  had  had  something  to  do  with  importing  from 
over  seas.  It  thus  happened  that  his  chapel  recently 
built  for  the  poor  with  funds  elicited  from  Dr.  Capon's 
wealthy  parishioners  was  vacant  when  Miss  Eleanor 
Leigh  consulted  the  Reverend  Doctor  as  to  a  good 
church  for  a  peculiarly  good  young  clergyman,  and  the 
Doctor  being  at  that  time  in  his  second  mourning  and 
likewise  in  that  state  of  receptivity  incident  to  clerical 
widowers  of  a  year  and  a  half's  standing,  yielded  readily 
to  his  fair  parishioner's  solicitations,  and  the  position 
was  tendered  to  John  Marvel  and  after  some  hesitation 
was  accepted — his  chief  motive  being  that  his  old 
friend  Wolffert  was  there  doing  a  work  in  which  he  had 
greatly  interested  him.  If  the  fact  that  Miss  Eleanor 
Leigh  also  lived  in  that  city  influenced  him,  it  would 
simply  prove  that  John  Marvel,  like  the  rest  of  Humanity 
was  only  mortal.  The  tender  was  made  without  the 
usual  preliminary  examination  of  the  young  man  by  the 
Doctor,  so  impressed  had  he  been  by  the  young  girl's 

144 


JOHN  MARVEL 

enthusiastic  accounts  of  John  Marvel's  work  and  in 
fluence  among  the  poor.  Thus  it  was,  that  when 
John  Marvel  finally  presented  himself,  the  Doctor  was 
more  than  surprised  at  his  appearance — he  was,  indeed, 
almost  shocked. 

The  Doctor  was  not  only  fond  of  his  own  appearance 
— which  was  certainly  that  of  a  gentleman  and  a  very 
well-fed  and  clerical  looking  one  as  well — but  he  took 
especial  pride  in  having  his  assistants  also  good- 
booking  and  clerical.  He  loved  to  march  in  processional 
and  recessional  at  the  end  of  a  stately  procession  with 
two  or  three  fine-looking  young  priests  marching  before 
him.  It  had  a  solemnizing  effect — it  made  the  church 
appear  something  important.  It  linked  him  with  the 
historic  and  Apostolic  Church  of  the  ages.  With  the 
swelling  organ  pouring  forth  its  strains  to  soar  and  die 
among  the  groined  arches  above  him,  he  sometimes  felt 
as  he  glanced  along  the  surpliced  line  before  him  as  if 
he  were  borne  away,  and  had  any  one  cried  to  him  from 
the  side  he  might  almost  have  been  able  to  heal  with  his 
blessing.  But  this  short,  broad,  bow-legged,  near 
sighted  man  in  his  shabby,  ill-fitting  clothes!  Why,  it 
would  never  do  to  have  him  about  him!  He  would 
mar  the  whole  harmony  of  the  scene.  If  it  had  not 
been  too  late  and  if  the  young  man  had  not  had  such  a 
potent  influence  behind  him,  the  Doctor  might  have 
suggested  some  difficulties  in  the  way  of  carrying 
through  the  arrangements  he  had  proposed;  but  though 
Mrs.  Argand  and  her  brother-in-law  were  understood 
to  have  had  some  differences  over  certain  business 

145 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

matters,  she  was  very  fond  of  her  niece  and  she  was  ftie 
wealthiest  woman  who  came  to  his  church.  The  Doc 
tor  reflected,  therefore,  that  he  need  not  have  the  awk 
ward  young  man  about  him  much:  and  when  a  little 
later  it  appeared  that  this  gawky  young  man  was 
filling  his  chapel  and  neighborhood-house,  poor-club 
and  night-schools  and  was  sending  in  reports  which 
showed  that  real  work  was  being  done,  the  Doctor  was 
well  satisfied  to  let  him  remain — so  well,  indeed,  that  he 
never  invited  him  to  his  house  socially,  but  only  held 
official  relations  with  him.  The  report  that  among  John 
Marvel's  chief  assistants  in  the  work  of  organizing  his 
poor-clubs  and  night-school  was  a  Jew  Socialist  dis 
turbed  the  Doctor  slightly,  but  he  reflected  that  when 
one  showed  such  notable  results  it  was  in  a  way  necessary 
to  employ  many  curious  agencies,  and,  after  all,  the  as 
sociation  with  Jews  in  secular  affairs  was  a  matter  of 
taste. 


146 


XIII 

MR.  LEIGH. 

Now,  to  recur  to  the  period  of  my  arrival  in  the 
West — the  day  after  Miss  Leigh's  return  home  her 
father  paid  her  die  unusual  honor  of  leaving  his  office 
to  take  lunch  with  her. 

Her  mind  was  full  of  the  subject  of  the  paper  she 
had  read  in  the  press  that  morning,  giving  a  lurid 
picture  of  the  inconvenience  and  distress  entailed  on 
the  passengers  and  scoring  the  management  of  the 
company  for  permitting  what  was  claimed  to  be  "so 
gross  a  breach  of  the  rights  of  the  public." 

Ordinarily,  she  would  have  passed  it  over  with  indiffer 
ence — a  shrug  of  her  white  shoulders  and  a  stamp  of 
her  little  foot  would  have  been  all  the  tribute  she  would 
have  paid  to  it.  But  of  late  she  had  begun  to  think. 

It  had  never  before  been  brought  so  clearly  to  the 
notice  of  the  girl  how  her  own  pleasures — not  the  natural 
but  the  created  pleasures — of  which  she  was  quite  as 
fond  as  other  healthy  girls  of  her  age  and  class,  were 
almost  exclusively  at  the  expense  of  the  class  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  regard  with  a  general  sort  of  vague 
sympathy  as  "  the  Poor." 

The  attack  on  her  father  and  herself  enraged  her; 
but,  as  she  cooled  down,  a  feeling  deeper  than  mere 
anger  at  an  injustice  took  possession  of  her  mind. 

To  find  that  she  herself  had,  in  a  way,  been  the  occa- 
147 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

sion  of  the  distress  to  women  and  children,  startled  her 
and  left  in  her  mind  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  to  which  she 
had  hitherto  been  a  stranger. 

" Father,"  she  began,  "did  you  see  that  dreadful 
article  in  the  Trumpet  this  morning?" 

Mr.  Leigh,  without  looking  up,  adopted  the  natural 
line  of  special  pleading,  although  he  knew  perfectly  well 
instantly  the  article  to  which  she  referred. 

"What  article?"  he  asked. 

"That  story  about  our  having  delayed  the  passenger 
train  with  women  and  children  on  it  and  then  having 
side-tracked  them  without  breakfast,  in  order  to  give 
our  car  the  right-of-way." 

"Oh!  yes.  I  believe  I  saw  that.  I  see  so  many 
ridiculous  things  in  the  newspapers,  I  pay  no  attention 
to  them." 

"But,  father,  that  was  a  terrible  arraignment,"  said 
the  girl. 

"Of  whom?"  asked  Mr.  Leigh,  with  a  little  twinkle 
in  his  eye. 

"Why,  of  you;  of  Aunt  Sophia,  of " 

"Of  me!" 

"Yes,  and  of  me— of  everybody  connected  with  the 
road." 

"  Not  of  you,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Leigh,  with  the  light 
of  affection  warming  up  his  rather  cold  face.  "Surely 
no  one,  even  the  anarchistic  writers  of  the  anarchistic 
press,  could  imagine  anything  to  say  against  you." 

"Yes,  of  me,  too,  though  not  by  name,  perhaps;  but 
I  was  there  and  I  was  in  a  way  the  cause  of  the  trouble, 

148 


MR.  LEIGH 

because  the  car  was  sent  after  me  and  Aunt  Sophia,  and 
I  feel  terribly  guilty  about  it." 

"  Guilty  of  what,  my  dear  ?  "  smiled  her  father.  "  Of 
simply  using  your  own  property  in  a  way  satisfactory 
to  you?" 

"That  is  just  it,  father;  that  is  the  point  which  the 
writer  raises.  Is  it  our  own  property?" 

"It  certainly  is,  my  love.  Property  that  I  have  paid 
for — my  associates  and  I — and  which  I  control,  or  did 
control,  in  conjunction  with  the  other  owners,  and  pro 
pose  to  control  to  suit  myself  and  them  so  long  as  we 
have  the  controlling  interest,  every  socialistic  writer, 
speaker  and  striker  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding." 

"  Well,"  said  the  girl,  "  that  sounds  all  right.  It  looks 
as  if  you  ought  to  be  able  to  do  what  you  like  with  your 
own;  but,  do  you  know,  father,  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is 
our  own.  That  is  just  the  point — he  says " 

"Oh!  nonsense!"  said  her  father  lightly.  "Don't 
let  this  Jew  go  and  fill  your  clear  little  head  with  such 
foolishness  as  that.  Enjoy  life  while  you  can.  Make 
your  mind  easy,  and  get  all  the  use  you  can  out  of  what 
I  have  amassed  for  you.  I  only  hope  you  may  have  as 
much  pleasure  in  using  it  as  I  have  had  in  providing  it." 

The  banker  gazed  over  at  his  daughter  half-quizzi- 
cally,  half-seriously,  took  out  a  cigar,  and  began  to  clip 
the  end  leisurely.  The  girl  laughed.  She  knew  that 
he  had  something  on  his  mind. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  she  asked  smiling. 

He  gave  a  laugh.  "Don't  go  and  imagine  that 
because  that  Jew  can  write  he  is  any  the  less  a — don't 

149 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

go  and  confound  him  and  his  work.  It  is  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  to  pick  flaws — to  find  the  defects  in 
any  system.  The  difficult  thing  is  constructive  work." 

She  nodded. 

"Did  that  foreigner  go  down  there  while  you  were 
there?" 

"The  Count?" 

"The  No-Count." 

"  No,  of  course  not.  Where  did  you  get  such  an  idea  ?  " 

He  lighted  his  cigar  with  a  look  of  relief,  put  it  in  his 
mouth,  and  sat  back  in  his  chair. 

"Don't  let  your  Aunt  Sophia  go  and  make  a  fool  of 
you.  She  is  a  very  good  business  woman,  but  you  know 
she  is  not  exactly — Solomon,  and  she  is  stark  mad  about 
titles.  When  you  marry,  marry  a  man." 

"Mr.  Canter,  for  example?"  laughed  the  girl.  "He 
is  Aunt  Sophia's  second  choice.  She  is  always  talking 
about  his  money." 

"She  is  always  talking  about  somebody's  money, 
generally  her  own.  But  before  I'd  let  that  fellow  have 
you  I'd  kill  him  with  my  own  hand.  He's  the  worst 
young  man  I  know.  Why,  if  I  could  tell  you  half — yes, 
one-tenth,  of  the  things  I  have  heard  about  him — 
But  I  can't  tell  you — only  don't  go  and  let  anybody 
pull  the  wool  over  your  eyes." 

"No  fear  of  that,"  said  the  girl. 

"No,  I  don't  know  that  there  is.  I  think  you've 
got  a  pretty  clear  little  head  on  your  shoulders.  But 
when  any  one  gets — gets — why,  gets  her  feelings  enlisted 
you  can't  just  count  on  her,  you  know.  And  with  your 

150 


MR.  LEIGH 

Aunt  Sophy  ding-donging  at  you  and  flinging  her  sleek 
Count  and  her  gilded  fools  at  you,  it  takes  a  good  head 
to  resist  her." 

The  girl  reassured  him  with  a  smile  of  appreciation, 

"I  don't  know  where  she  got  that  from,"  continued 
her  father.  "It  must  have  been  that  outside  strain, 
the  Prenders.  Your  mother  did  not  have  a  trace  of  it 
in  her.  I  never  saw  two  half-sisters  so  different. 
She'd  have  married  anybody  on  earth  she  cared  for — 
and  when  she  married  me  I  had  nothing  in  the  world 
except  what  my  father  chose  to  give  me  and  no  very  great 
expectations.  She  had  a  rich  fellow  from  the  South 
tagging  after  her — a  big  plantation  and  lots  of  slaves 
and  all  that,  and  your  Aunt  Sophy  was  all  for  her  marry 
ing  him — a  good  chap,  too — a  gentleman  and  all  that; 
but  she  turned  him  down  and  took  me.  And  I  made 
my  own  way.  What  I  have  I  made  afterward — by  hard 
work  till  I  got  a  good  start,  and  then  it  came  easy 
enough.  The  trouble  since  has  been  to  keep  others 
from  stealing  it  from  me — and  that's  more  trouble  than 
to  make  it,  I  can  tell  you — what  between  strikers,  gam 
blers,  councilmen,  and  other  knaves,  I  have  a  hard 
time  to  hold  on  to  what  I  have." 

"I  know  you  have  to  work  very  hard,"  said  the  girl, 
her  eyes  on  him  full  of  affection.  "Why,  this  is  the  first 
time  I've  had  you  up  to  lunch  with  me  in  months.  I 
felt  as  much  honored  as  if  it  had  been  the  King  of 
England." 

"That's  it — I  have  to  stay  down  there  to  keep  the 
robbers  from  running  off  with  my  pile.  That  young 

151 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

fellow  thought  he'd  get  a  little  swipe  at  it,  but  I  taught 
him  a  thing  or  two.  He's  a  plunger.  His  only  idea  is 
to  make  good  by  doubling  up — all  right  if  the  market's 
rising  and  you  can  double.  But  it's  a  dangerous  game, 
especially  if  one  tries  to  recoup  at  the  faro  table." 

"Does  he  play  faro?"  asked  the  girl. 

"He  plays  everything,  mainly  Merry  H — 1.  I  beg 
your  pardon — I  didn't  mean  to  say  that  before  you,  but 
he  does.  And  if  his  father  didn't  come  to  his  rescue 
and  plank  up  every  time  he  goes  broke,  he'd  have  been 
in  the  bankrupt  court — or  jail — and  that's  where  he'll 
wind  up  yet  if  he  don't  look  out." 

"I  don't  believe  you  like  him,"  laughed  the  girl. 

"Oh!  yes,  I  do.  I  like  him  well  enough — he  is  amus 
ing  rather,  he  is  gay,  careless,  impudent — he's  the  main 
conduit  through  which  I  extract  money  from  old 
Prender's  coffers.  He  never  spends  anything  unless  you 
pay  him  two  gold  dollars  down  for  one  paper  one  on 
the  spot.  But  I  want  him  to  keep  away  from  you,  that's 
all;  I  suppose  I've  got  to  lose  you  some  time,  but  I'll  be 
hanged  if  I  want  to  give  you  up  to  a  blackguard — a 

gambler — a    rou — a    lib — a    d d    blackguard    like 

that." 

"Well,  you  will  never  have  that  to  do,"  said  the  girl; 
"I  promise  you  that." 

"How  is  the  strike  coming  on?"  asked  his  daughter. 
"When  I  went  away  it  was  just  threatening,  and  I  read 
in  the  papers  that  the  negotiations  failed  and  the  men 
were  ordered  out;  but  I  haven't  seen  much  about  it  in 
the  papers  since,  though  I  have  looked." 

152 


MR.  LEIGH 

"Oh I  Yes — it's  going  on,  over  on  the  other  lines 
across  town,  in  a  desultory  sort  of  way,"  said  her  father 
wearily — "the  fools!  They  won't  listen  to  any  reason." 

"Poor  people!"  sighed  the  girl.  "Why  did  they  go 
out?" 

"Poor  fools!"  said  Mr.  Leigh  warmly;  "they  walked 
out  for  nothing  more  than  they  always  have  had." 

"I  saw  that  they  had  some  cause;  what  was  it?" 

"Oh!  they've  always  some  cause.  If  they  didn't  have 
one  they'd  make  it.  Now  they  are  talking  of  extending 
it  over  our  lines." 

"Our  lines!    Why?" 

"Heaven  knows.  We've  done  everything  they  de 
manded — in  reason.  They  talk  about  a  sympathetic 
strike.  I  hear  that  a  fellow  has  come  on  to  bring  it 
about.  Poor  fools!" 

The  girl  gave  him  a  smile  of  affection  as  he  pushed 
back  his  chair.  And  leaning  over  her  as  he  walked 
toward  the  door,  he  gave  her  a  kiss  of  mingled  pride 
and  affection.  But  when  he  had  left  the  room  she  sat 
still  for  some  moments,  looking  straight  ahead  of  her, 
her  brow  slightly  puckered  with  thought  which  evidently 
was  not  wholly  pleasant,  and  then  with  a  sweeping 
motion  of  her  hand  she  pushed  her  chair  back,  and, 
as  she  arose  from  the  table,  said:  "I  wish  I  knew  what 
is  right!"  That  moment  a  new  resolution  entered  her 
mind,  and,  ringing  the  bell  for  the  servant,  she  ordered 
her  carriage. 


153 


XIV 

MISS   LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

She  drove  first  to  Dr.  Capon's  church  and,  going 
around,  walked  in  at  the  side  door  near  the  east  end, 
where  the  robing  rooms  and  the  rector's  study  were. 
She  remembered  to  have  seen  on  a  door  somewhere 
there  a  sign  on  which  was  painted  in  gilded  letters  the 
fact  that  the  rector's  office  hours  were  from  12  to  1  on 
Mondays,  Tuesdays,  and  Thursdays,  and  this  was 
Thursday.  The  hour,  however,  was  now  nearly  three, 
and  she  had  called  only  on  a  chance  of  catching  him,  a 
chance  which  a  stout  and  gloomy  looking  verger,  who 
appeared  from  somewhere  at  her  foot-fall,  told  her  at 
first  was  lost;  but  when  he  recognized  her,  he  changed 
his  air,  grew  quite  interested,  and  said  he  would  see  if  the 
doctor  was  in.  He  had  been  there  he  knew  after  lunch, 
but  he  might  have  left.  He  entered  and  closed  the  door 
softly  behind  him,  leaving  the  girl  in  the  gloom,  but  a 
moment  later  he  returned  and  showed  her  in.  The 
rector,  with  a  smile  of  unfeigned  pleasure  on  his  face, 
was  standing  just  beside  a  handsome  mahogany  writing 
desk,  near  a  window,  awaiting  her  entry,  and  he  greeted 
her  with  cordiality. 

"Oh!  my  dear  young  lady,  come  in.  I  was  just  about 
going  off,  and  I'm  glad  I  happened  to  have  lingered  a 
little — getting  ready  to  launch  a  new  year-book."  He 
laid  his  fingers  on  a  batch  of  printer's  proof  lying  on  the 

154 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

desk  beside  a  stock  bulletin.  "I  was  just  thinking 
what  a  bore  it  is  and  lo!  it  turned  into  a  blessing  like 
Balaam's  curse.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  The  rector's 
large  blue  eyes  rested  on  his  comely  parishioner  with  a 
spark  in  them  that  was  not  from  any  spiritual  fire. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl  doubtfully. 

"  I  see  you  were  at  the  grand  ball,  or  whatever  it  was 
last  night,  and  I  was  so  delighted  to  see  that  it  was  for  a 
charitable  object — and  the  particular  object  which  I  saw." 

"Yes,  it  is  for  Mr.  Marvel's  work  out  among  the 
poor,"  said  Miss  Leigh.  The  rector's  expression 
changed  slightly. 

"Oh!  yes,  that  is  our  work.  You  know  that  is  our 
chapel.  I  built  it.  The  ball  must  have  been  a  great 
success.  It  was  the  first  knowledge  I  had  that  you  and 
your  dear  aunt  had  returned."  His  voice  had  a  tone 
of  faint  reproach  in  it. 

"Yes,  we  returned  yesterday.  I  wish  the  papers 
would  leave  me  alone,"  she  added. 

"Ah!  my  dear  young  lady,  there  are  many  who  would 
give  a  great  deal  to  be  chronicled  by  the  public  prints  as 
you  are.  The  morning  and  evening  star  is  always  men 
tioned  while  the  little  asteroids  go  unnoticed." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  girl,  "but 
I  do  wish  the  papers  would  let  me  alone — and  my  father 
too." 

"Oh!  yes,  to  be  sure.  I  did  not  know  what  you  were 
referring  to.  That  was  an  outrageous  attack.  So  utterly 
unfounded,  too,  absolutely  untrue.  Such  scurrilous  at 
tacks  deserve  the  reprobation  of  all  thinking  men." 

155 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"The  trouble  is  that  the  attack  was  untrue;  but  the 
story  was  not  unfounded." 

"What!  What  do  you  mean?"  The  clergyman's 
face  wore  a  puzzled  expression. 

"That  our  car  was  hitched  on  to  the  train " 

"And  why  shouldn't  it  be,  my  dear  young  lady? 
Doesn't  the  road  belong  to  your  father;  at  least,  to  your 
family — and  those  whom  they  represent?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  does,  and  that  is  one  reason  why 
I  have  come  to  see  you." 

"Of  course,  it  does.  You  will  have  to  go  to  a  lawyer 
to  ascertain  the  exact  status  of  the  title;  but  I  have 
always  understood  it  does.  Why,  your  aunt,  Mrs.  Ar- 
gand,  owns  thousands  of  shares,  doesn't  she,  and  your 
father?"  A  grave  suspicion  suddenly  flitted  across  his 
mind  relative  to  a  rumor  he  had  heard  of  heavy  losses 
by  Mr.  Leigh  and  large  gains  by  Mr.  Canter,  the  presi 
dent  of  the  road,  and  his  associates  who,  according  to 
this  rumor,  were  hostile  to  Mr.  Leigh. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  even  if  they  do,  I  am  not  sure  that 
that  makes  them  owners.  Did  you  read  that  article?" 

"No — well,  not  all  of  it — I  glanced  over  a  part  of  it, 
enough  to  see  that  it  was  very  scurrilous,  that's  all.  The 
head-lines  were  simply  atrocious.  The  article  itself  was 
not  so  wickedly ' 

"I  should  like  to  do  some  work  among  the  poor," 
said  the  girl  irrelevantly. 

"Why,  certainly — just  what  we  need — the  earnest  in 
terest  and  assistance  of  just  such  persons  as  yourself, 
of  your  class;  the  good,  earnest,  representatives  of  the 

156 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

upper  class.    If  we  had  all  like  you  there  would  be  no 
cry  from  Macedonia." 

"Well,  how  can  I  go  about  it?"  demanded  the  girl 
rather  cutting  in  on  the  rector's  voluble  reply. 

"Why,  you  can  teach  in  the  Sunday-school — we  have 
a  class  of  nice  girls,  ladies,  you  know,  a  very  small  one — 
and  I  could  make  my  superintendent  arrange  for  Miss 
—for  the  lady  who  now  has  them  to  take  another  class 
— one  of  the  orphan  classes." 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that  kind  of  thing.  If  I  taught  at  all 
I  should  like  to  try  my  hand  at  the  orphan  class  myself." 

"Well,  that  could  be  easily  arranged—"  began  the 
rector;  but  his  visitor  kept  on  without  heeding  him. 

"Only  I  should  want  to  give  them  all  different  hats 
and  dresses.  I  can't  bear  to  see  all  those  poor  little 
things  dressed  exactly  in  the  same  way — sad,  drab  or 
gray  frocks,  all  cut  by  the  same  pattern — and  the  same 
hats,  year  in  and  year  out." 

"Why,  they  have  new  hats  every  year,"  expostulated 
the  rector. 

"I  mean  the  same  kind  of  hat.  Tall  and  short;  stout 
and  thin;  slim  or  pudgy;  they  all  wear  the  same  horrible, 
round  hats — I  can't  bear  to  look  at  them.  I  vow  I'd 
give  them  all  a  different  hat  for  Christmas." 

"Oh!  my  dear,  you  can't  do  that — you  would  spoil 
them — and  it's  against  the  regulations.  You  must  re 
member  that  these  children  are  orphans!" 

"Being  orphans  is  bad  enough,"  declared  the  girl, 
"but  those  hats  are  worse.  Well,  I  can't  teach  them, 
but  I  might  try  some  other  poor  class?" 

157 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Why,  let  me  see.  The  fact  is  that  we  haven't 
any" — he  was  speaking  slowly,  casting  his  mind  over  his 
field — "very  poor  people  in  this  church.  There  used  to 
be  a  number;  but  they  don't  come  any  more.  They 
must  have  moved  out  of  the  neighborhood.  I  must  make 
my  assistant  look  them  up." 

"You  have  no  poor,  then?" 

"  Not  in  this  congregation.  The  fact  is  this  church  is 
not  very  well  suited  to  them.  They  don't  mix  with  our 
people.  You  see  our  class  of  people — of  course,  we  are 
doing  a  great  work  among  the  poor,  our  chapels — we 
have  three,  one  of  them,  indeed,  is  a  church  and  larger 
than  many  independent  churches.  Another  has  given 
me  some  anxiety,  but  the  third  is  doing  quite  a  remark 
able  work  among  the  working  people  out  in  the  east  end 
— that  under  my  assistant,  the  young  man  you  interested 
yourself  so  much  in  last  year — and  which  your  ball 
committee  was  good  enough  to  consider  in  selecting 
the  object  of  its  benevolence." 

"Yes,  I  know— Mr.  Marvel.     I  will  go  out  there." 

"Oh!  my  dear,  you  couldn't  go  out  there!" 

"Why  not?    I  want  to  see  him." 

"Why,  it  is  away  out  on  the  edge  of  the  city — what 
you  might  call  the  jumping-off  place — among  manufac 
tories  and  railroad  shops." 

"Yes,  I  know.    I  have  been  out  there." 

"You  have — why,  it  is  away  out.  It  is  on — I  don't 
Tecall  the  name  of  the  street.  It's  away  out.  I  know 
it's  near  the  street-car  terminus  that  your  family  own. 
It's  a  very  pretty  chapel  indeed.  Don't  you  think  so  ? 

158 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

It  is  natural  that  you  should  take  an  interest  in  it,  as 
your  aunt,  Mrs.  Argand,  helped  us  to  build  it.  She 
gave  the  largest  contribution  toward  it.  I  don't  know 
what  we  should  do  without  charitable  women  like  her." 

"Yes,  I  know.    And  Mr.  Marvel  is  coming  on  well  ?" 

A  change  came  over  the  face  of  the  rector.  "Oh, 
very  well — rather  an  ungainly  fellow  and  very  slow,  but 
doing  a  very  good  work  for  our  parish.  I  have  been 
wanting  to  get  the  Bishop  to  go  there  all  this  year  as 
there  are  a  number  of  candidates  for  me  to  present;  but 
he  has  been  so  busy  and  I  have  been  so  busy " 

"I  will  go  there,"  said  Miss  Leigh,  rising. 

"I  don't  think  you  will  like  it,"  urged  the  rector. 
"It  is  a  very  bad  part  of  the  town — almost  dangerous, 
indeed — filled  with  working  people  and  others  of  that 
sort,  and  I  don't  suppose  a  carriage  ever " 

"  I  will  go  in  the  street  cars,"  said  the  girl. 

"The  street  cars!  Yes,  you  could  go  that  way,  but 
why  not  come  here  and  let  me  assign  you  a  class?" 

"I  wish  to  work  among  the  poor." 

"The  happy  poor!"  said  the  rector,  smiling.  "Why 
not  come  and  help  me  in  my  work — who  need  you  so 
much?"  His  voice  had  changed  suddenly  and  he  at 
tempted  to  possess  himself  of  the  gloved  hand  that 
rested  on  his  table,  but  it  was  suddenly  withdrawn. 

"  I  thought  we  had  settled  that  finally  last  year,"  said 
Miss  Leigh  firmly. 

"Ah,  yes;  but  the  heart  is  not  so  easily  regulated." 

"Oh!  yes,  yours  is.  Why  don't  you  try  Aunt  Sophia 
again?" 

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JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Try — again? — who?"  The  rector  was  manifestly 
somewhat  embarrassed. 

"Why,  Aunt  Sophia — 'the  evening  star/"  said  Miss 
Leigh,  laughing. 

"Who  says — ?  Did  she  say  I  had — ah — addressed 
her?" 

"No — I  got  it  from  you.    Come  on  now " 

"Which  way  are  you  going?  That  is  just  my  way. 
May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  driving  up  with  you?  I 
must  go  and  see  your  aunt  and  welcome  her  back. 
One  moment."  He  had  shown  the  young  lady  out  of 
the  door.  He  now  turned  back  and  folding  up  the  stock 
bulletin  placed  it  carefully  in  his  pocket. 

As  the  carriage  with  its  smart  team  turned  into  one  of 
the  broader  streets,  two  young  men  were  standing  in  a 
window  of  a  large  building  highly  decorated,  looking 
idly  out  on  the  street.  They  had  just  been  talking  of 
the  threatened  strike  which  the  newspapers  were  dis 
cussing,  as  to  which  they  held  similar  views. 

"  I  tell  you  what  is  the  matter  with  those  scoundrels," 
said  the  elder  of  the  two,  a  large,  pampered  young  fel 
low;  "they  need  cold  steel— they  ought  to  be  made  to 
work." 

"How  would  that  suit  us?"  laughed  the  other. 

"We  don't  have  to." 

"Hello!  What's  old  Bart  after?"  observed  the  first  one. 

"Shekels,"  said  the  other,  and  yawned. 

"After  her — he's  taking  notice." 

"Oh!  no;  he's  wedded  to  the  tape— goes  into  the 
Grand  five  times  a  day  and  reads  the  tape." 

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MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

"Bet  you,  he  courts  her." 

"How  11  you  prove  it?" 

"Ask  her." 

"Bet  you  you  daren't  ask  her.** 

"How  much?" 

"What  you  like." 

"I  don't  want  to  win  your  money." 

"Don't  you  ?  Then  hand  me  back  that  little  fifteen 
hundred  you  picked  up  from  me  last  week." 

"That  was  square,  but  this  is  a  certainty." 

"  I'd  chance  it — bet  you  a  thousand,  Jim,  you  daren't 
ask  her  to  her  face  if  old  Bart  isn't  courting  her  and 
hasn't  asked  her  to  marry  him." 

"Oh!  that's  different.  You  want  to  make  me  put  up 
and  then  make  my  bet  for  me.  I  tell  you  what  I'll  bet 
— that  she's  the  only  girl  I  know  I  wouldn't  ask  that." 

"That  may  be.  Now,  I  tell  you  what  I'll  bet— that 
you  want  a  drink — ring  the  bell." 

"That's  a  certainty,  too,"  laughed  his  friend,  and  they 
turned  and  sank  wearily  in  deep  chairs  till  a  drink 
should  give  them  energy  to  start  a  fresh  discussion. 

Having  put  down  the  Rev.  Bartholomew  at  the  door 
of  her  aunt's  imposing  mansion,  Eleanor  Leigh,  after  a 
moment  of  indecision,  directed  her  coachman  to  drive 
to  a  certain  street  in  the  section  known  as  "downtown," 
and  there  she  stopped  at  a  pleasant  looking  old  house, 
and  jumping  out  of  the  carriage,  ran  up  the  worn  stone 
steps  and  rang  the  bell.  It  was  a  street  that  had  once 
been  fashionable,  as  the  ample,  well-built  houses  and 
the  good  doors  and  windows  testified.  But  that  fickle 

161 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

jade,  Fashion,  had  long  since  taken  her  flight  to  other 
and  more  pretentious  sections  and  shops,  loan-offices, 
and  small  grocers'  markets  had  long  engulfed  the  man 
sions  of  the  last  generation.  Had  any  gauge  of  the 
decadence  of  the  quarter  been  needed  it  might  have 
been  found  in  the  scornful  air  of  Miss  Leigh's  stout 
coachman  as  he  sat  on  his  box.  He  looked  unutter 
ably  disgusted,  and  his  chin  was  almost  as  high  as  the 
chins  of  his  tightly  reined-up  horses. 

Miss  Leigh  asked  of  the  rather  slatternly  girl  who 
came  to  the  door,  if  the  Miss  Tippses  were  in,  and  if  so, 
would  they  see  her.  When  the  maid  went  to  see  if  they 
were  at  home,  Miss  Leigh  was  shown  into  a  large  and 
very  dark  room  with  chairs  of  many  patterns,  all  old, 
placed  about  in  it,  a  horsehair  sofa  on  one  side,  a  mar 
ble-topped  table  in  the  centre;  an  upright  piano  on 
the  other  side,  and  on  a  small  table  a  large  piece  of 
white  coral  under  a  glass  cover.  Where  the  fire 
place  had  once  been,  a  large  register  now  stood 
grating  off  the  heat  that  might  try  in  vain  to  escape 
through  it. 

Presently  the  maid  returned.  "Miss  Pansy"  was  in, 
and  would  the  lady  please  walk  up.  It  was  in  the  third 
story,  back,  at  the  top  of  the  stairs.  Miss  Leigh  ran  up 
and  tapped  on  the  door,  waited  and  tapped  again. 
Then,  as  there  was  no  answer,  she  opened  the  door 
cautiously  and  peeped  in.  It  was  a  small  hall-room, 
bare  of  furniture  except  two  chairs,  a  sewing-machine, 
a  table  on  which  was  an  ironing-board  at  which  at  the 
moment  stood  a  little  old  lady  with  a  forehead  so  high 

162 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

as  to  be  almost  bald.  She  was  clad  in  a  rusty  black 
skirt,  a  loose  morning  sacque  of  blue  cotton,  and  she 
wore  loose  bedroom-slippers.  Her  sleeves  were  rolled 
up,  and  her  arms  were  thin  and  skinny.  She  held  a 
flat-iron  in  her  hand,  with  which  she  had  evidently  been 
ironing  a  white  under-garment  which  lay  on  the  board, 
and  another  one  was  on  a  little  gas-stove  which  stood 
near  a  stationary  wash-stand.  As  Miss  Leigh  opened 
the  door,  the  old  lady  gave  a  little  exclamation  of  dismay 
and  her  hand  went  involuntarily  to  her  throat. 

"Oh!  I  beg  your  pardon!"  said  the  girl,  starting  to 
retire  and  close  the  door;  "  I  thought  the  servant  told 
me " 

By  this  time  the  other  had  recovered  herself. 

"  Oh!  come  in,  won't  you  ?"  she  said,  with  a  smile  and 
in  a  voice  singularly  soft  and  refined.  "My  sister  will 
be  ready  to  receive  you  in  a  moment.  I  was  only  a 
little  startled.  The  fact  is,"  she  said  laughing,  "I 
thought  the  door  was  bolted;  but  sometimes  the  bolt 
does  not  go  quite  in.  My  sister —  Won't  you  take  a 
chair?  Let  me  remove  those  things."  She  took  up 
the  pile  of  under-garments  that  was  on  one  chair  and 
placed  it  on  top  of  a  pile  of  dishes  and  other  things  on 
the  other. 

"Oh!  I  am  so  sorry,"  protested  the  girl,  who  observed 
that  she  was  concealing  the  dishes;  "I  was  sure  the  girl 
told  me  it  was  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs." 

"She  is  the  stupidest  creature— that  girl.  I  must 
really  get  my  sister  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Kale  about  her.  I 
would,  except  that  I  am  afraid  the  poor  thing  might 

163 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

lose  her  place.  There  is  another  door  just  off  the  little 
passage  that  she  probably  meant." 

"Yes — probably.    It  was  I  that  was  stupid." 

"Oh!  no,  not  at  all.  You  must  excuse  the  disorder 
you  find.  The  fact  is,  this  is  our  work-room,  and  we 
were  just — I  was  just  doing  a  little  ironing  to  get  these 
things  finished.  When  your  card  was  brought  up — well, 
we  both  were — and  as  my  sister  is  so  much  quicker,  she 
ran  to  get  ready  and  I  thought  I  would  just  finish  this 
when  I  was  at  it,  and  you  would  excuse  me." 

"Oh!  I  am  so  sorry.  I  wouldn't  for  anything  have 
interrupted  you,"  repeated  the  girl,  observing  how  all 
the  time  she  was  trying  unobtrusively  to  arrange  her 
poor  attire,  rolling  down  her  sleeves  and  smoothing  her 
darned  skirt,  all  the  while  with  a  furtive  glance  of  her 
eye  toward  the  door. 

"  Oh!  my  dear,  I  wouldn't  have  had  you  turned  away 
for  anything  in  the  world.  My  sister  would  be  desolee. 
We  have  a  better  room  than  this,  where  we  usually  re 
ceive  our  visitors.  You  will  see  what  a  nice  room  it  is. 
We  can't  very  well  afford  to  have  two  rooms;  but  this  is 
too  small  for  us  to  live  in  comfortably  and  we  have  to 
keep  it  because  it  has  a  stationary  wash-stand  with  hot 
water,  which  enables  us  to  do  our  laundering." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  murmured  Miss  Leigh  softly. 

"You  see,  we  earn  our  living  by  making  under 
clothes  for — for  a  firm " 

"I  see,  and  what  nice  work  you  do."  She  was  han 
dling  a  garment  softly. 

"Yes,  my  sister  does  beautiful  work;  and  I  used  to 
164 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

do  pretty  well,  too;  but  I  am  troubled  a  little  with  my 
eyes  lately.  The  light  isn't  very  good  at  night — and  the 
gas  is  so  expensive.  I  don't  see  quite  as  well  as  I  used 
to  do." 

"How  much  can  you  do?"  asked  her  visitor,  who 
had  been  making  a  mental  calculation. 

"Why,  I —  It  is  hard  to  tell.  I  do  the  coarser  work 
and  my  sister  does  the  finishing;  then  she  usually  laun 
ders  and  I  iron  when  I  am  able.  I  suffer  with  rheuma 
tism  so  that  I  can't  help  her  very  much." 

"  I  hope  you  make  them  pay  you  well  for  it,"  blurted 
out  the  girl. 

"Why,  we  used  to  get  a  very  good  price.  We  got  till 
recently  seven  cents  apiece,  but  now  it  has  been  cut 
down — that  was  for  everything,  laundering  and  ironing, 
too.  We  are  glad  to  get  that." 

"How  on  earth  do  you  manage  to  live  on  it?" 

"Oh!  we  live  very  well — very  well,  indeed,"  said  the 
little  lady  cheerfully.  "Mrs.  Kale  is  very  good  to  us. 
She  lets  us  have  the  rooms  cheaper  than  she  would  any 
one  else.  You  see  she  used  to  know  us  when  we  lived 
back  in  the  East.  Her  father  was  a  clerk  in  our  father's 
office,  and  her  mother  went  to  school  with  us.  Then 
when  we  lost  everything  and  were  turned  out,  we  found 
we  had  to  make  our  own  living  and  we  came  here  to  see 
about  our  case,  and  she  found  we  were  here — and  that's 
the  way  we  came  to  be  here.  But  don't  you  let  my  sister 
know  I  told  you  about  the  sewing,"  she  said,  dropping 
her  voice,  as  a  brisk  step  was  heard  outside  the  door. 
"Ah!  here  she  is  now!"  as  at  the  moment  the  door 

165 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

opened  and  a  brisk  little  old  lady,  almost  the  counter 
part  of  her  sister,  except  that  she  might  have  been  ten 
years  her  junior,  that  is,  sixty  instead  of  seventy  years 
of  age,  tripped  into  the  room. 

"Oh!  my  dear  Miss  Leigh,  how  good  of  you  to  come 
all  the  way  out  here  to  call  on  us!  Sister,  what  in  the 
world  are  you  doing  ?  Why  will  you  do  this  ?  I  can't 
keep  her  from  amusing  herself!  (This  with  a  shake  of 
the  head  and  a  comical  appeal  for  sympathy  from  her 
visitor.)  Won't  you  walk  into  our  sitting-room  ?  Now, 
sister,  do  go  and  make  yourself  presentable.  You  know 
she  will  slave  over  all  sorts  of  queer  things.  She  really 
loves  sewing  and  ironing.  I'm  quite  ashamed  to  have 
you  come  into  this  pig-sty.  Walk  in,  won't  you?" 
And  she  led  the  way  into  a  larger  room  adjoining  the 
work-room,  leaving  Miss  Leigh  in  doubt  which  was  the 
more  pathetic,  the  little  old  lady  still  delving  over  the 
ironing-board,  making  no  pretence  to  conceal  their 
poverty,  or  the  other  in  her  poor  "best,"  trying  to  con 
ceal  the  straits  in  which  they  were  fallen. 

Eleanor  had  observed  that  the  older  sister's  gaze  had 
constantly  rested  on  the  rose  she  wore,  and  as  they  were 
going  out,  the  latter  called  her  sister's  attention  to  it. 
She  said,  she  thought  it  possibly  the  most  beautiful  rose 
she  had  ever  seen. 

"Won't  you  have  it?"  said  Eleanor,  and  unpinned  it. 

"  Oh!  no,  indeed,  I  wouldn't  deprive  you  of  it  for  any 
thing.  It  is  just  where  it  ought  to  be." 

Eleanor  persisted,  and  finally  overcame  both  her  re 
luctance  and  her  sister's  objection. 

166 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

She  was  struck  with  the  caressing  way  in  which  she 
took  and  held  it,  pressing  it  against  her  withered 
cheek. 

"Sister,  don't  you  remember  the  Giant-of-Battles  we 
used  to  have  in  our  garden  at  Rosebank  ?  This  reminds 
me  of  it  so — its  fragrance  is  just  the  same." 

"Yes.  We  used  to  have  a  great  many  roses,"  ex 
plained  the  younger  sister,  as  she  led  the  way  into  the 
next  room  as  if  she  were  asking  Eleanor  into  a  palace, 
though  this  room  was  almost  as  bare  of  furniture  as  the 
other,  the  chief  difference  being  an  upright  case  which 
was  manifestly  a  folding-bed,  and  a  table  on  which  were 
a  score  of  books,  and  a  few  old  daguerreotypes. 

"Your  friend,  Mr.  Marvel,  was  here  the  other  day. 
What  a  nice  young  man  he  is." 

"Yes,"  said  Eleanor.  "I  am  going  out  to  see  him. 
Where  has  he  moved  to  ?"  Miss  Pansy  said  she  did  not 
know  the  street;  but  her  sister  had  the  address.  She 
would  go  and  see.  When  she  came  back,  she  went  over 
and  opened  the  old  Bible  lying  on  the  table.  "Here  is 
where  we  keep  the  addresses  of  those  we  especially 
value,"  she  said,  smiling.  "Oh!  here  it  is.  When  he 
was  here  the  other  day,  he  brought  us  a  treat;  a  whole 
half-dozen  oranges ;  won't  you  let  me  prepare  you  one  ? 
They  are  so  delicious." 

Eleanor,  who  had  been  holding  a  bank-note  clutched 
in  her  hand,  thanked  her  with  a  smile,  but  said  she  must 
go.  She  walked  across  the  room,  and  took  up  the  Bible 
casually,  and  when  she  laid  it  down  it  gaped  a  little  in  a 
new  place. 

167 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Oh,  you  know  we  have  had  quite  an  adventure," 
said  Miss  Pansy. 

"An  adventure?    Tell  me  about  it." 

"Why,  you  must  know  there  is  a  young  man  here  I 
am  sure  must  be  some  one  in  disguise.  He  is  so — well, 
not  exactly  handsome,  but  really  distinguished  looking, 
and  he  knows  all  about  railroads  and  things  like  that." 

"You'd  better  look  out  for  him,"  said  Miss  Leigh. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so  ?  My  sister  and  I  were  think 
ing  of  consulting  him  about  our  affairs — our  railroad 
case,  you  know." 

"Oh!    Well,  what  do  you  know  about  him?" 

"Nothing  yet.  You  see,  he  has  just  come;  but  he 
joined  us  on  the  street  this  morning  when  we  were 
going  out — just  shopping — and  offered  to  take  our 
bundles — just  two  little  bundles  we  had  in  our  hands, 
and  was  so  polite.  My  dear,  he  has  quite  the  grand 
air!" 

"Oh,  I  see.  Well,  that  does  not  necessarily  make 
him  a  safe  adviser.  Why  not  let  me  ask  my  father  about 
your  matter  ?  He  is  a  railroad  man,  and  could  tell  you 
in  a  minute  all  about  it." 

"Oh,  could  you ?    That  would  be  so  kind  in  you." 

"But  you  must  tell  me  the  name  of  the  road  in  which 
you  had  the  stock." 

"Oh,  my  dear.  I  don't  know  that  I  can  do  that.  I 
only  know  that  it  was  the  Transcontinental  and  some 
thing  and  something  else.  I  know  that  much,  because 
it  was  only  about  sixty  miles  long,  and  we  used  to  say 
that  the  name  was  longer  than  the  road.  My  father 

168 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

used  to  say  that  it  would  some  day  be  a  link  in  a  trans 
continental  chain — that's  where  it  got  its  name,  you 
know." 

"Well,  look  out  for  your  prince  in  disguise,"  said  the 
girl,  smiling  as  she  rose  to  take  her  leave. 

That  evening  at  dinner,  after  Eleanor  had  given  her 
father  an  account  of  her  day,  with  which  she  always 
beguiled  him,  including  a  description  of  her  visit  to  the 
two  old  ladies,  she  suddenly  asked,  "  Father,  what  rail 
road  was  it  that  used  to  be  known  as  the  'Transcontin 
ental  Something  and  Something?" 

"The  what?" 

"The  ' Transcontinental  Something  and  Something 
Else?'  It  was  about  sixty  miles  long,  and  was  bought 
up  by  some  bigger  road  and  reorganized." 

"I  suppose  you  mean  the  ' Transcontinental,  North 
western  and  Great  Iron  Range  Road/  That  about 
meets  the  condition  you  mention.  What  do  you  know 
about  it?" 

"Was  it  reorganized?" 

"Yes;  about  twenty  years  ago,  and  again  about  ten 
years  ago.  I  never  quite  understood  the  last  reorganiza 
tion.  Mr.  Argand  had  it  done — and  bought  up  most  of 
the  stock." 

"Was  any  one  squeezed  out?" 

"Sure — always  are  in  such  cases.  That  is  the  object 
of  a  reorganization — partly.  Why  are  you  so  interested 
in  it  ?"  Mr.  Leigh's  countenance  wore  an  amused  look. 

"I  have  two  friends — old  ladies — who  lost  everything 
they  had  in  it." 

169 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  guess  it  wasn't  much.    What  is  their  name?11 

"It  was  all  they  had.    They  are  named  Tipps." 

Mr.  Leigh's  expression  changed  from  amusement  to 
seriousness.  "Tipps — Tipps?"  he  repeated  reminis- 
cently.  "Bassett  Tipps?  I  wonder  if  they  were  con 
nected  with  Bassett  Tipps?1 

"They  were  his  daughters — that  was  their  father's 
name.  I  remember  now,  Miss  Pansy  told  me  once." 

"You  don't  say  so!  Why,  I  used  to  know  Colonel 
Tipps  when  he  was  the  big  man  of  this  region.  He  com 
manded  this  department  before  I  came  out  here  to  live, 
and  the  old  settlers  thought  he  was  as  great  a  man  as 
General  Washington.  He  gave  old  Argand  his  start. 
He  built  that  road, — was,  in  fact,  a  man  of  remarkable 
foresight,  and  if  he  had  not  been  killed — Argand  was  his 
agent  and  general  factotum —  They  didn't  come  into 
the  reorganization,  I  guess?" 

"That's  it — they  did  not — and  now  they  want  to  get 
their  interest  back." 

"Well,  tell  them  to  save  their  money,"  said  Mr.  Leigh. 
"It's  gone — they  can't  get  it  back." 

"They  want  you  to  get  it  back  for  them." 

"Me!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Leigh.  "They  want  me  to 
get  it  back!  Oh,  ho-ho!  They'd  better  go  after  your 
Aunt  Sophia  and  Canter." 

"Yes;  I  told  them  you  would." 

"You  did  ?"  Mr.  Leigh's  eyes  once  more  lit  up  with 
amusement. 

"Yes:  you  see  they  were  robbed  of  every  cent  they 
had  in  the  world,  and  they  have  not  a  cent  left." 

170 


MISS  LEIGH  SEEKS  WORK 

"Oh!  no,  they  were  not  robbed.  Everything  was 
properly  done  and  absolutely  regular,  as  I  remember. 
It  must  have  been.  I  think  there  was  some  sort  of 
claim  presented  afterward  by  the  Tipps  Estate  which 
was  turned  down.  Let  me  see;  McSheen  had  the 
claim,  and  he  gave  it  up — that  was  when?  Let  me 
see.  He  became  counsel  for  your  Uncle  Argand  in — 
what  year  was  it  ? — you  were  a  baby — it  must  have  been 
eighteen  years  ago." 

"That  was  nineteen  years  ago,  sir.  I  am  now 
twenty,"  said  his  daughter,  sitting  up  with  a  very  grand 
air. 

The  father's  eyes  lit  up  with  pride  and  affection  as 
he  gazed  at  the  trim,  straight  figure  and  the  glowing  face. 

"You  were  just  a  little  baby — so  big."  He  meas 
ured  a  space  of  about  two  span  with  his  hands.  "That 
was  your  size  then,  for  I  know  I  thought  your  Uncle  Ar 
gand  might  have  made  me  counsel  instead  of  McSheen. 
But  he  didn't.  And  that  was  MeSheen's  start." 

61  He  sold  out,"  said  the  girl  with  decision. 

"Oh,  no — I  don't  think  he  would  do  that.  He  is  a 
lawyer." 

"Yes,  he  would.  He's  a  horrid,  old,  disreputable 
rascal.  I've  always  thought  it,  and  now  I  know  it. 
And  I  want  you  to  get  my  old  ladies'  interest  back  for 
them." 

"I  can't  do  that.  No  one  can.  It's  too  long  ago. 
If  they  ever  had  a  claim  it's  all  barred,  long  ago." 

"It  oughtn't  to  be— if  it  was  stolen,"  persisted  his 
daughter,  "and  it  was." 

171 


XV 
THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

Having  decided  that  Mrs.  Kale's  did  not  present  the 
best  advantages,  I  determined  to  move  to  more  suitable 
quarters.  I  chose  a  boarding-house,  partly  by  accident 
and  partly  because  it  was  in  a  semi-fashionable  quarter 
which  I  liked,  and  I  paid  Mrs.  Starling,  the  landlady, 
a  decisive  person,  two  weeks'  board  in  advance,  so  as 
to  have  that  long  a  lease  at  any  rate,  and  a  point  from 
which  to  take  my  bearings.  I  had  learned  of  the  place 
through  Kalender,  who  was  deeply  enamored  of  Miss 
Starling,  a  Byzantine-hued  young  lady,  and  who  re 
garded  the  house  somewhat  as  Adam  is  assumed  to 
have  regarded  Eden  after  his  banishment.  Mrs.  Star 
ling  was,  in  this  case,  the  angel  of  the  flaming  sword. 
She  had  higher  ambitions  for  Miss  Starling. 

I  had  less  than  forty  dollars  left,  and  fifteen  of  that 
was  borrowed  next  day  by  a  fellow-boarder  named 
Pushkin,  who  occupied  the  big  front  room  adjoining 
my  little  back  hall-room,  and  who  had  "forgotten  to 
draw  any  money  out  of  bank,"  he  said,  but  would 
"return  it  the  next  day  at  dinner  time,"  a  matter  he 
also  forgot.  I  was  particularly  struck  with  him  not  be 
cause  he  had  a  title  and  was  much  kotowed  to  by  our 
landlady  and  her  boarders — especially  the  ladies,  as 

172 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

because  I  recalled  his  name  in  juxtaposition  with  Miss 
Leigh's  in  the  flamboyant  account  of  the  ball  the  night 
after  I  arrived. 

I  was  now  ensconced  in  a  little  pigeon-hole  of  an 
office  in  a  big  building  near  the  court-house,  where, 
with  a  table,  two  chairs,  and  a  dozen  books,  I  had 
opened  what  I  called  my  "law  office,"  without  a  client 
or  an  acquaintance;  but  with  abundant  hopes. 

I  found  the  old  principle  on  which  I  had  been  reared 
set  at  naught,  and  that  life  in  its  entirety  was  a  vast 
struggle  based  on  selfishness. 

I  was  happy  enough  at  first,  and  it  was  well  I  was. 
It  was  a  long  time  before  I  was  happy  again.  Having 
in  mind  Miss  Leigh,  I  wrote  and  secured  a  few  letters 
of  introduction;  but  they  were  from  people  who  did  not 
care  anything  for  me  to  people  who  did  not  care  anything 
about  them — semi-fashionable  folk,  mainly  known  in 
social  circles,  and  I  had  no  money  to  throw  away  OR 
society.  One,  indeed,  a  friend  of  mine  had  gotten  for 
me  from  Mr.  Poole  to  a  man  of  high  standing  both  in 
business  and  social  circles,  the  president  of  a  manufac 
turing  company,  with  which,  as  I  learned  later,  Mr. 
Poole  had  formerly  some  connection.  This  gentle 
man's  name  was  Leigh,  and  I  wondered  if  he  were  the 
same  person  who  had  been  posted  by  Kalender  at  the 
head  of  my  story  of  the  delayed  train.  I  thought  of 
presenting  the  letter.  It,  however,  was  so  guarded  that 
I  thought  it  would  not  do  me  the  least  good,  and,  besides, 
I  did  not  wish  to  owe  anything  to  Lilian  Poole's  father, 
for  I  felt  sure  his  influence  had  always  been  against  me, 

173 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  I  was  still  too  sore  to  be  willing  to  accept  a  favor  at 
his  hands. 

It  was  well  I  did  not  present  it,  for  Mr.  Poole  with 
well-considered  and  characteristic  prudence,  had  written 
a  private  letter  restricting  the  former  letter  to  mere 
social  purposes,  and  had  intimated  that  I  had  been  a 
failure  in  my  profession  and  was  inclined  to  speculate. 
This  character  he  had  obtained,  as  I  subsequently 
learned,  from  Peck. 

The  new  conditions  with  which  I  was  confronted  had 
a  singular  effect  on  me.  I  was  accustomed  to  a  life 
where  every  one  knew  me  and  I  knew,  if  not  every  one, 
at  least  something  good  or  bad  about  every  one. 

Here  I  might  have  committed  anything  short  of 
murder  or  suicide  without  comment,  and  might  have 
committed  both  without  any  one  outside  of  the  reporters 
and  the  police  and  Dix  caring  a  straw  about  it. 

I  felt  peculiarly  lonely  because  I  was  inclined  to  be 
social  and  preferred  to  associate  with  the  first  man  I 
met  on  the  street  to  being  alone.  In  fact,  I  have  always 
accounted  it  one  of  my  chief  blessings  that  I  could  find 
pleasure  and  entertainment  for  a  half-hour  in  the  com 
pany  of  any  man  in  the  world  except  a  fool  or  a  man 
of  fashion,  as  the  old  writers  used  to  speak  of  them,  or 
as  we  call  them  now,  members  of  the  smart  set. 

The  first  things  that  struck  me  as  I  stepped  out  into 
the  thronged  streets  of  the  city  were  the  throngs  that 
hurried,  hurried,  hurried  along,  like  a  torrent  pouring 
through  a  defile,  never  stopping  nor  pausing — only 
flowing  on,  intent  on  but  one  thing — getting  along. 

174 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

Their  faces,  undistinguished  and  indistinguishable  in 
the  crowd,  were  not  eager,  but  anxious.  There  was 
no  rest,  and  no  room  for  rest,  more  than  in  the  rapids 
of  Niagara.  It  was  the  bourgeoisie  at  flood,  strong, 
turgid,  and  in  mass,  ponderant;  but  inextinguishably 
common.  As  I  stood  among  them,  yet  not  of  them,  I 
could  not  but  remark  how  like  they  were  in  mass  and 
how  not  merely  all  distinction  but  all  individuality  per 
ished  in  the  mixing.  I  recalled  a  speech  that  my  father 
had  once  made.  "I  prefer  countrymen,"  he  said,  "to 
city  men.  The  latter  are  as  like  as  their  coats.  The 
ready-made-clothing  house  is  a  great  civilizer,  but  also  a 
great  leveler.  Like  the  common  school  of  which  you 
boast,  it  may  uplift  the  mass,  but  it  levels — it  destroys 
all  distinction." 

This  came  home  to  me  now. 

I  had  a  proof  of  its  truth,  and,  I  may  add,  of  the 
effect  of  urban  influences  not  long  after  I  launched  on 
the  restless  sea  of  city  life.  I  was  passing  one  day 
along  a  street  filled  with  houses,  some  much  finer  than 
others,  when  my  way  was  blocked  by  a  child's  funeral 
in  front  of  a  small  but  neat  house  beside  one  much 
more  pretentious.  The  white  hearse  stood  at  the  door 
and  the  little  white  coffin  with  a  few  flowers  on  it  was 
just  about  to  be  borne  out  as  I  came  up.  A  child's 
funeral  has  always  appealed  to  me  peculiarly.  It 
seems  so  sad  to  have  died  on  the  threshold  before  even 
opening  the  door.  It  appeared  to  me  suddenly  to  have 
brought  me  near  to  my  kind.  And  I  stopped  in  front 
of  the  adjoining  house  to  wait  till  the  sorrowing  little 

175 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

cortege  had  entered  the  carriage  which  followed  behind 
the  hearse.  A  number  of  other  persons  had  done  the 
same  thing.  At  this  moment,  the  door  of  the  larger 
house  next  door  opened,  and  a  woman,  youngish  and 
well-dressed,  appeared  and  stood  on  her  steps  waiting 
for  her  carriage  which  stood  at  some  little  distance. 

As  I  was  standing  near  her,  I  turned  and  asked  her 
in  an  undertone: 

"Can  you  tell  me  whose  funeral  this  is?" 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  she  said,  so  sharply  that  I  took  a  good 
look  at  her  as  she  stood  trying  to  button  a  tight  glove. 

"Oh!  I  thought,  perhaps,  you  knew  as  they  are  your 
next-door  neighbors." 

"  Well,  I  do  not.  It's  no  concern  of  mine,"  she  said 
shortly.  She  beckoned  to  her  carriage  across  the  way. 
The  coachman  who  had  been  looking  at  the  funeral 
caught  sight  of  her  and  with  a  start  wheeled  his  horses 
around  to  draw  up.  The  number  of  persons,  however, 
who  had  stopped  like  myself  prevented  his  coming  up 
to  her  door,  which  appeared  to  annoy  the  lady. 

"Can't  you  move  these  people  on?"  she  demanded 
angrily  of  a  stout  officer  who  stood  like  the  rest  of  us, 
looking  on. 

"It's  a  funeral,"  he  said  briefly. 

"Well,  I  know  it  is.  I  don't  expect  you  to  interfere 
with  that.  It's  these  idlers  and  curiosity  mongers  who 
block  the  way  that  I  want  moved  to  clear  a  way  for  my 
carriage.  And  if  you  can't  do  it,  I'll  ask  Mr.  McSheen 
to  put  a  man  on  this  beat  who  can.  As  it  happens  I 
am  going  there  now."  Insolence  could  go  no  farther. 

176 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

"Let  that  carriage  come  up  here,  will  you  ?"  said  the 
officer  without  changing  his  expression.  "Drive  up, 
lad,"  he  beckoned  to  the  coachman  who  came  as  near 
as  he  could. 

"To  Mrs.  McSheen's,"  said  the  lady  in  a  voice  evi 
dently  intended  for  the  officer  to  hear,  "and  next  time, 
don't  stand  across  the  street  staring  at  what  you  have 
no  business  with,  but  keep  your  eyes  open  so  that  you 
won't  keep  me  waiting  half  an  hour  beckoning  to  you." 
She  entered  the  carriage  and  drove  off,  making  a  new 
attack  on  her  glove  to  close  it  over  a  pudgy  wrist.  I 
glanced  at  the  coachman  as  she  closed  the  door  and  I 
saw  an  angry  gleam  flash  in  his  eye.  And  when  I 
turned  to  the  officer  he  was  following  the  carriage  with 
a  look  of  hate.  I  suddenly  felt  drawn  to  them  both, 
and  the  old  fight  between  the  People  and  the  Bour 
geoisie  suddenly  took  shape  before  me,  and  I  found 
where  my  sympathies  lay.  At  this  moment  the  officer 
turned  and  I  caught  his  eye  and  held  it.  It  was  hard 
and  angry  at  first,  but  as  he  gave  me  a  keen  second 
glance,  he  saw  something  in  my  face  and  his  eye 
softened. 

"Who  is  Mr.  McSheen?"  I  asked. 

"The  next  mayor,"  he  said  briefly. 

"Oh!"  I  took  out  my  card  under  an  impulse  and 
scribbled  my  office  address  on  it  and  handed  it  to  him. 
"If  you  have  any  trouble  about  this  let  me  know." 

He  took  it  and  turning  it  slowly  gazed  at  it,  at  first 
with  a  puzzled  look.  Then  as  he  saw  the  address  his 
expression  changed. 

177 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

He  opened  his  coat  and  put  it  carefully  in  his  pocket. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said  finally. 

I  turned  away  with  the  consciousness  that  I  had  had 
a  new  light  thrown  on  life,  and  had  found  it  more  self 
ish  than  I  had  dreamed.  I  had  begun  with  high  hopes. 
It  was,  indeed,  ever  my  nature  to  be  hopeful,  being 
healthy  and  strong  and  in  the  prime  of  vigorous  youth. 
I  was  always  rich  when  at  my  poorest,  only  my  heavy 
freighted  ship  had  not  come  in.  I  knew  that  though  the 
larder  was  lean  and  storms  were  beating  furiously  off 
the  coast,  somewhere,  beating  her  way  against  the  con 
trary  winds,  the  argosy  was  slowly  making  headway, 
and  some  day  I  should  find  her  moored  beside  my  pier 
and  see  her  stores  unladen  at  my  feet.  The  stress  and 
storm  of  the  struggle  were  not  unwelcome  to  me.  I 
was  always  a  good  fighter  when  aroused;  but  I  was 
lazy  and  too  indolent  to  get  aroused.  Now,  however, 
I  was  wide  awake.  The  greatness  of  the  city  stirred 
my  pulses.  Its  blackness  and  its  force  aroused  my 
sleeping  powers,  and  as  I  stepped  into  the  surf  and  felt 
the  rush  of  the  tides  as  they  swept  about  and  by  me,  I 
felt  as  a  fair  swimmer  might  who  steps  for  the  first  time 
in  a  fierce  current  and  feels  it  clutch  his  limbs  and  draw 
him  in.  I  was  not  afraid,  only  awakened  and  alive  to 
the  struggle  before  me,  and  my  senses  thrilled  as  I 
plunged  and  rose  to  catch  my  breath  and  face  the  vast 
unknown.  Later  on  I  found  that  the  chief  danger  I 
had  not  counted  on:  the  benumbing  of  the  senses,  the 
slow  process  under  which  spirit,  energy,  courage,  and 
even  hope  finally  die. 

178 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

One  who  has  never  had  the  experience  of  starting  in 
a  big  city  alone,  without  a  connection  of  any  kind,  can 
not  conceive  what  it  means:  the  loneliness — utter  as 
in  a  desert — the  waiting — the  terrible  waiting — being 
obliged  to  sit  day  after  day  and  just  wait  for  business 
to  come,  watching  your  small  funds  ooze  out  drop  by 
drop,  seeing  men  pass  your  door  and  enter  others' 
offices  and  never  one  turn  in  at  yours,  till  your  spirit  sinks 
lower  and  lower  and  your  heart  dies  within  you.  One 
who  has  not  felt  it  does  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  out  of 
work  and  not  able  to  get  it.  The  rich  and  fat  and  sleek 
— the  safe  and  secure — what  know  they  of  want! 
Want,  not  of  money,  but  of  work:  the  only  capital  of 
the  honest  and  industrious  poor!  It  is  the  spectre  that 
ever  haunts  the  poor.  It  makes  the  world  look  as 
though  the  whole  system  of  society  were  out  of  joint — 
as  if  all  men  were  in  conspiracy  against  you — as  if  God 
had  forgotten  you.  I  found  men  in  a  harder  case  than 
mine — men  in  multitude,  with  wives  and  children,  the 
babe  perishing  at  the  mother's  withered  breast,  the 
children  dying  for  food,  staggering  along  the  streets 
seeking  work  in  vain,  while  wealth  in  a  glittering  flood 
poured  through  the  streets  in  which  they  perished. 
This  bitter  knowledge  I  came  to  learn  day  after  day 
till  I  grew  almost  to  hate  mankind.  The  next  step  is 
war  against  society.  Not  all  who  wage  it  hate  the  men 
they  fight.  It  is  the  cause  they  hate.  There  I  sat  day 
after  day,  full  of  hope  and  eagerness  and — now  that 
my  conceit  was  somewhat  knocked  out  of  me — with 
not  only  abundant  ability,  but  the  stern  resolve  to 

179 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

transact  any  business  which  might  be  entrusted  to 
me,  and  just  rotted  to  despair.  No  wonder  men 
go  to  the  devil,  and  enlist  to  fight  the  whole  estab 
lishment  of  organized  society.  I  almost  went.  When 
I  look  back  at  it  now  it  seems  like  a  miracle  that  I 
did  not  go  wholly.  Pride  saved  me.  It  survived  long 
after  hope  died.  Sometimes,  I  even  thought  of  the 
pistol  I  had  in  my  trunk.  But  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  to  live  and  win.  There,  too,  came  in  Pride.  I 
could  not  bear  to  think  of  Lilian  Poole  and  Peck.  How 
she  would  congratulate  herself  and  how  Peck  would 
gloat!  No,  I  could  not  give  him  that  satisfaction. 
Peck  did  me  a  good  turn  there.  A  strong  enmity,  well 
based,  is  not  always  without  good  results;  but  Peck 
should  not  smear  my  memory  with  pretended  pity. 
So  I  starved,  but  held  on.  When  I  got  so  that  I  could 
endure  it  no  longer,  I  used  to  go  out  and  walk  up  and 
down  the  streets — sometimes  the  fashionable  streets — 
and  look  at  the  handsome  residences  and  the  fine  car 
riages  and  automobiles  flashing  by  and  the  handsomely 
dressed  people  passing,  and  recall  that  I  was  as  good 
as  they — in  my  heart,  I  thought,  better.  Some  of  them 
with  kind  faces  I  used  to  fancy  my  friends;  but  that  they 
did  not  know  I  was  in  town.  This  conceit  helped  me. 
And  at  times  I  used  to  fancy  that  I  lived  in  a  par 
ticular  house,  and  owned  a  particular  team :  thus  living 
for  a  brief  moment  like  a  child  in  "  making  pictures."  A 
house  is  sometimes  personal  and  well-nigh  human  to  me. 
It  appears  to  have  qualities  almost  human  and  to  express 
them  on  its  face:  kindness,  hostility,  arrogance,  breadth 

180 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

or  narrowness,  and  brutal  selfishness  are  often  graven 
on  its  front  I  have  often  felt  that  I  could  tell  from  the 
outside  of  a  house  the  characteristics  of  the  people 
within.  Arrogance,  ignorance,  want  of  tact,  preten 
tiousness  and  display,  spoke  from  every  massy  doorway 
arid  gaudy  decoration  with  a  loudness  which  would 
have  shocked  a  savage.  This  being  so,  what  characters 
some  of  the  wealthy  people  of  our  cities  must  have! 
It  must  be  one  of  the  compensations  of  the  poor  that 
the  houses  of  the  rich  are  often  so  hideous  and  unhome- 
like. 

The  mansion  I  selected  finally  as  mine  was  a  light 
stone  mansion,  simple  in  its  style,  but  charming  in  its 
proportions;  not  one  of  the  largest,  but  certainly  one 
of  the  prettiest  in  the  whole  city.  Amid  a  waste  of 
splendid  vulgarity  it  was  almost  perfect  in  its  harmo 
nious  architectural  design  and  lines,  and  had  a  sunny, 
homelike  look.  It  stood  in  an  ample  lot  with  sun  and 
air  all  around  it,  and  grass  and  flowers  about  it.  Our 
fathers  used  to  say,  "seated,"  which  has  a  more  estab 
lished  and  restful  sound.  It  looked  a  home  of  refine 
ment  and  ease.  Its  stable  was  set  back  some  dis 
tance  behind  and  a  little  to  one  side,  so  that  I  could 
see  that  it  was  of  the  same  stone  with  the  mansion 
and  just  enough  of  the  same  general  style  to  in 
dicate  that  it  belonged  to  the  mansion,  and  the  teams 
that  came  out  of  it  were  the  nattiest  and  daintiest  in 
the  city. 

One  day  as  I  was  walking,  trying  to  divert  myself 
from  my  loneliness,  a  brougham  rolled  out  of  this  stable 

181 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

with  a  pair  of  airy,  prancing  bays,  shining  like  satin, 
and  drew  up  to  the  carriage-block  a  little  before  me, 
and  a  young  lady  came  out  of  the  house  as  I  passed  by. 
My  heart  gave  a  leap,  for  it  was  the  girl  I  had  seen  on 
the  train.  I  took  her  in,  rather  than  scanned  her  as  she 
tripped  down  the  stone  steps,  and  she  glanced  at  me  for  a 
second  as  if  she  thought  I  might  be  an  acquaintance. 
She  made  as  she  stood  there  one  of  the  loveliest  pictures 
I  had  ever  laid  eyes  on :  her  trim,  slim  figure,  exquisitely 
dressed,  in  the  quietest  way;  soft,  living  brown  hair, 
brushed  back  from  a  white,  broad  forehead ;  beautiful, 
speaking  eyes  under  nearly  straight  brows;  and  a 
mouth  neither  too  big  for  beauty  nor  too  small  for 
character;  all  set  off  by  a  big  black  hat  with  rich 
plumes  that  made  a  background  for  what  I  thought  the 
loveliest  face  I  had  ever  seen. 

Something  pleasant  had  evidently  just  happened 
wthin;  for  she  came  out  of  the  door  smiling,  and  I 
observed  at  the  same  moment  her  eyes  and  her  dimples. 
I  wondered  that  people  did  not  always  smile:  that 
smile  suddenly  lit  up  everything  for  me.  I  forgot  my 
loneliness,  my  want  of  success,  myself.  Her  hands 
were  full  of  parcels  as  she  came  down  the  steps,  and 
just  as  I  passed  the  wind  lifted  the  paper  from  one — 
a  bunch  of  flowers,  and  in  trying  to  recover  it  she 
dropped  another  and  it  rolled  down  to  my  feet.  I 
picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to  her.  It  was  a  ball,  one 
of  those  big,  squashy,  rubber  balls  with  painted  rings 
around  it,  that  are  given  to  small  children  because  they 
cannot  do  anything  with  them.  She  thanked  me 

182 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

sweetly  and  was  turnng  to  her  carriage,  when  under 
a  sudden  impulse,  I  stepped  to  the  door,  just  as  I 
should  have  done  at  home,  and,  lifting  my  hat,  said, 
"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  mayn't  I  open  your  door  for 
you?"  ' 

She  bowed,  looking,  perhaps,  just  the  least  shade 
surprised.  But,  having  handed  her  in,  I  was  afraid  of 
embarrassing  her,  and  was  backing  away  and  passing 
on  when  she  thanked  me  again  very  graciously.  Again 
I  lifted  my  hat  and  again  got  a  look  into  her  deep  eyes. 
As  the  carriage  rolled  off,  she  was  leaning  back  in  it, 
and  I  felt  her  eyes  upon  me  from  under  the  shade  of  that 
big  hat  with  a  pleasant  look,  but  I  had  assumed  an 
unconscious  air,  and  even  stopped  and  picked  up,  as 
though  carelessly,  a  couple  of  violets  she  had  dropped 
as  she  crossed  the  sidewalk;  and  after  a  sniff  of  their 
fragrance,  dropped  them  into  my  pocket-book,  because 
they  reminded  me  of  the  past  and  because  I  hated  to  see 
them  lie  on  the  hard  pavement  to  be  crushed  by  passing 
feet.  The  book  was  empty  enough  otherwise,  but 
somehow  I  did  not  mind  it  so  much  after  the  violets 
were  there. 

"Who  lives  in  that  house?"  I  asked  of  an  officer. 

"Mr.  Leigh,  the  banker  and  big  west-side  street-car 
man — runs  all  the  lines  out  that  way — all  the  Argand 
estate  don't  run,"  he  added.  He  waved  his  arm  to  in 
clude  a  circle  that  might  take  in  half  the  town  or  half  the 
world.  "The  big  house  in  the  middle  of  the  block  is 
Mrs.  Argand's — the  great  Philanthropist,  you  know? 
Everybody  knows  her."  I  did  not,  but  I  did  not  care; 

183 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  knew  all  I  wanted  to  know — I  knew  who  Miss  Leigh 
was.  I  reflected  with  some  concern  that  this  was  the 
name  of  the  vice-president  of  the  Railway  whom  I  had 
attacked  through  Kalender  and  of  the  man  to  whom 
Mr.  Poole's  perfunctory  letter  was  addressed.  I  went 
back  to  my  office  in  better  spirits,  and,  having  no  brief 
to  work  on,  even  wrote  a  poem  about  the  violets — about 
her  leaving  a  track  of  violets  behind  her. 

I  was  drawn  to  that  street  a  number  of  times  after 
ward,  but  I  saw  her  no  more. 

I  don't  believe  that  love  often  comes  at  first  sight; 
but  that  it  may  come  thus,  or  at  least,  at  second  sight, 
I  have  my  own  case  to  prove.  It  may  be  that  my 
empty  heart,  bruised  and  lonely  in  that  great  city,  was 
waiting  with  open  door  for  any  guest  bold  enough  to 
walk  in  and  claim  possession.  It  may  be  that  that 
young  lady  with  her  pleasant  smile,  her  high-bred  face 
and  kindly  air,  crossing  my  path  in  that  stranger- 
thronged  wilderness,  was  led  by  Providence;  it  may 
be  that  her  grace  and  charm  were  those  I  had  pictured 
long  in  the  Heavenward  dreams  of  youth  and  but  now 
found.  However  it  was,  I  went  home  in  love  with  an 
ideal  whose  outward  semblance  was  the  girl  with  the 
children's  toys — truly  in  love  with  her.  And  the  vision 
of  Lilian  Poole  never  came  to  me  again  in  any  guise 
that  could  discomfort  me.  From  this  time  the  vision 
that  haunted  me  and  led  me  on  was  of  a  sweet-eyed  girl 
who  dimpled  as  she  smiled  and  dropped  her  violets. 
The  picture  of  Lilian  Poole,  standing  by  the  marble 
mantel  in  her  plush-upholstered  parlor,  adjusting  her 

184 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  VIOLETS 

bracelet  so  as  to  set  off  her  not  too  small  wrist,  while  I 
faced  my  fate,  flitted  before  my  mind,  but  she  was  a 
ghost  to  me,  and  my  heart  warmed  as  I  thought  of  the 
lady  of  the  violets  and  the  children's  toys. 


185 


XVI 

THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM 

I  soon  changed  back  to  my  first  boarding-house. 
After  my  two  weeks  were  out  for  which  I  had  prepaid, 
I  went  to  my  landlady,  Mrs.  Starling,  a  tall,  thin  woman 
with  high  cheek  bones,  a  cold  eye  and  a  close  mouth, 
and  told  her  frankly  I  could  not  pay  any  more  in  ad 
vance,  and  that,  though  I  would  certainly  pay  her  within 
a  short  time,  it  might  not  be  convenient  for  me  to  pay 
her  by  the  week,  and  I  left  it  with  her  whether  she  would 
keep  me  on  these  terms.  She  did  not  hesitate  a  second. 
Her  first  duty  was  to  herself  and  family,  she  said,  by 
which  she  meant  her  daughter,  "Miss  Starling,"  as 
she  always  spoke  of  her,  but  whom  the  irreverent  por 
tion  of  the  boarders  whom  I  associated  with  always 
spoke  of  as  "Birdy,"  a  young  woman  who  dressed 
much  in  yellow,  perhaps  because  it  matched  her  blon- 
dined  hair,  played  vehemently  on  the  piano,  and  enter 
tained  the  young  men  who  boarded  there.  "  Besides," 
she  "wanted  the  room  for  a  dressing-room  for  a  gentle 
man  who  wished  a  whole  suite,"  she  added,  with  what 
I  thought  a  little  undue  stress  on  the  word  "gentleman," 
as  the  "gentleman"  in  question  was  the  person  who 
had  borrowed  my  money  from  me  and  never  returned 
it:  Count  Pushkin,  who  occupied  the  big  room  next 
my  little  one.  He  had,  as  I  learned,  cut  quite  a  dash 

186 


THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM 

in  town  for  a  while,  living  at  one  of  the  most  fashionable 
hotels,  and  driving  a  cart  and  tandem,  and  paying 
assiduous  attention  to  a  young  heiress  in  the  city,  daugh 
ter  of  a  manufacturer  and  street-car  magnate;  but 
latterly  he  had  taken  a  room  at  Mrs.  Starling's,  "in 
order,"  he  gave  out,  "  that  he  might  be  quiet  for  a  time," 
as  a  duke  or  duchess  or  something — I  am  not  sure  he 
did  not  say  a  king — who  was  his  relative,  had  died  in 
Europe.  He  had  taken  the  greater  part  of  the  boarding- 
house  by  storm,  for  he  was  a  tall,  showy-looking  fellow, 
and  would  have  been  handsome  but  for  a  hard  and 
shifty  eye.  And  I  found  myself  in  a  pitiful  minority  in 
my  aversion  to  him,  which,  however,  after  a  while, 
gained  some  recruits  among  the  young  men,  one  of 
them,  my  young  reporter,  Kalender,  who  had  moved 
there  from  Mrs.  Kale's. 

The  boarding-house  keeper's  daughter  was  desper 
ately  in  love  with  Pushkin,  and,  with  her  mother's  able 
assistance,  was  making  a  dead  set  for  him,  which  par 
tiality  the  count  was  using  for  what  it  was  worth,  hardly 
attempting  meantime  to  disguise  his  amusement  at 
them.  He  sang  enough  to  be  passable,  though  his  voice 
was,  like  his  eye,  hard  and  cold;  and  he  used  to  sing 
duets  with  Miss  Starling:  the  method  by  which,  accord 
ing  to  a  vivacious  young  Jew,  named  Isadore  Ringar- 
ten,  who  lived  in  the  house,  he  paid  his  board.  I  never 
knew  how  he  acquired  his  information,  but  he  was 
positive. 

"I  vish,"  said  Isadore,  "I  could  pay  my  board  in 
vind — vith  a  little  song.  Now,  I  can  sing  so  the  Count 

187 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

he  would  give  me  all  he  is  vorth  to  sing  so  like  I  sing; 
but  I  am  not  a  count — efen  on  this  side." 

However  this  was,  Pushkin  paid  the  girl  enough 
attention  to  turn  the  poor  thing's  head,  and  made  her 
treat  harshly  my  reporter,  Kalender,  who  was  deeply 
in  love  with  her,  and  spent  all  his  salary  on  her  for 
flowers,  and  lavished  theatre  tickets  on  her. 

The  evening  before  I  left  I  had  to  call  Pushkin  down, 
who  had  been  drinking  a  little,  and  I  must  say,  when  I 
called,  he  came  promptly.  It  was  after  dinner  in  "  the 
smoking  room,"  as  the  apartment  was  called,  and  he 
began  to  ridicule  poor  Victoria  cruelly,  saying  she  had 
told  him  her  hair  was  yellow  like  that  of  the  girls  of  his 
own  country,  and  he  had  told  her,  no,  that  hers  was 
natural,  while  theirs  was  always  dyed,  and  she  swal 
lowed  it. 

"She  is  in  loaf  mit  me.  She  swallow  whatefer  I  gif 
her — "  he  laughed.  The  others  laughed,  too.  But  I 
did  not.  I  thought  of  Lilian  Poole  and  Peck.  Perhaps, 
I  was  thinking  of  my  money,  and  I  know  I  thought  of 
the  account  of  the  ball  which  took  place  the  day  I 
arrived.  I  told  him  what  I  thought  of  his  ridiculing  a 
girl  he  flattered  so  to  her  face.  He  turned  on  me,  his 
eyes  snapping,  his  face  flushed,  but  his  manner  cool  and 
his  voice  level. 

"Ha-ah!  Are  you  in  loaf  mit  her,  too,  like  poor 
Kalender,  who  spent  all  hees  moneys  on  her,  and  what 
she  laugh  at  to  make  me  amused  ?  I  gif  her  to  you,  den. 
I  too  not  want  her — I  haf  had  her,  you  can  take  her." 

He  made  a  gesture  as  if  tossing  something  contemptu- 
188 


THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM 

ously  into  my  arms,  and  put  his  cigarette  back  in  his 
teeth  and  drew  a  long  breath.  There  were  none  but 
men  present, "and  some  of  them  had  stopped  laughing 
and  were  looking  grave. 

"No,  I  am  not  in  love  with  her,"  I  said  quietly, 
standing  up.  "  I  only  will  not  allow  you  to  speak  so  of 
any  lady  in  my  presence — that  is  all."  I  was  thinking 
of  a  girl  who  lived  in  a  sunny  house,  and  had  once  taken 
a  lot  of  little  dirty-faced  children  to  feed  them,  and  once 
had  smiled  into  my  eyes.  I  only  knew  her  name,  but 
her  violets  were  in  my  pocket  near  my  heart.  I  was 
perfectly  calm  in  my  manner  and  my  face  had  whitened, 
and  he  mistook  it,  for  he  blurted  out: 

" Oh!  I  vill  nod  ?  I  vill  nod  speaks  in  your  presence. 
You  vill  gif  me  one  little  lesson?  You  who  know  te 
vorl  so  veil.  I  tank  you,  Millot!" 

He  bowed  low  before  me,  spreading  out  his  arms,  and 
some  of  the  others  tittered.  It  encouraged  him  and  he 
straightened  up  and  stepped  in  front  of  me. 

"I  vill  tell  you  vat  I  vill  does,"  he  proceeded.  "I 
vill  say  vat  I  tarn  please  before  you  about  anybodies." 
He  paused  and  cast  about  for  something  which  would 
prove  his  boast.  "Tere  is  nod  a  woman  in  tis  town 
or  in  America,  py  tarn!  that  vill  nod  gif  herself  to  fon 
title — to  me  if  I  hax  her,  and  say,  'tank  you,  Count.' 
Ha,  ah?"  He  bent  his  body  forward  and  stuck  his 
face  almost  into  mine  with  a  gesture  as  insulting  as  he 
could  make  it,  and  as  I  stepped  back  a  pace  to  get  a 
firm  stand,  he  stuck  out  his  tongue  and  wagged  his  head 
in  derision.  The  next  second  he  had  turned  almost 

189 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

a  somersault.  I  had  taken  boxing  lessons  since  Wolf- 
fert  thrashed  me.  I  saw  the  bottom  of  his  boots. 
He  was  at  precisely  the  right  distance  for  me  and  I 
caught  him  fairly  in  the  mouth.  His  head  struck  the 
floor  and  he  lay  so  still  that  for  a  few  moments  I  thought 
I  had  killed  him.  But  after  a  little  he  came  to  and 
began  to  rise. 

"  Get  up,"  I  said,  "  and  apologize  to  these  gentlemen 
and  to  me."  I  caught  him  and  dragged  him  to  his 
feet  and  faced  him  around. 

"You  haf  insulted  me.  I  vill  see  about  tis,"  he  splut 
tered,  turning  away.  But  I  caught  him  with  a  grip  on 
his  shoulder  and  steadied  him.  The  others  were  all 
on  my  side  now;  but  I  did  not  see  them,  I  saw  only  him. 

"Apologize,  or  I  will  fling  you  out  of  the  window." 
He  apologized. 

The  affair  passed.  The  Count  explained  his  bruises 
by  some  story  that  he  had  been  run  down  by  a  bicycle, 
to  which  I  learned  he  afterward  added  a  little  fiction 
about  having  stopped  a  runaway  and  having  saved 
some  one.  But  I  had  left  before  this  little  touch 
occurred  to  him.  Mrs.  Starling  must  have  had  some 
idea  of  the  collision,  though  not  of  the  original  cause; 
for  she  was  very  decided  in  the  expression  of  her  wishes 
to  have  possession  of  "the  dressing  room"  that  night 
for  the  "gentleman,"  and  I  yielded  possession. 

The  curious  thing  about  it  was  that  one  reason  I  could 
not  pay  Mrs.  Starling  again  in  advance  was  that  he  still 
had  my  money  which  he  had  borrowed  the  day  after 
I  had  arrived. 

190 


THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM 

From  Mrs.  Starling's  I  went  back  to  my  old  boarding- 
house,  kept  by  Mrs.  Kale,  as  a  much  cheaper  one,  in  a 
much  poorer  neighborhood,  where  I  was  not  asked  to 
pay  in  advance,  but  paid  at  the  end  of  the  month  by 
pawning  my  scarf-pins  and  shirt  studs,  and  gradually 
everything  else  I  had. 

I  was  brought  up  to  go  to  church,  my  people  having 
all  been  earnest  Christians  and  devoted  church  people; 
but  in  my  college  years  I  had  gone  through  the  usual 
conceited  phase  of  callow  agnosticism ;  and  partly  from 
this  intellectual  juvenile  disease  and  partly  from  self- 
indulgence,  I  had  allowed  the  habit  to  drop  into  desue 
tude,  and  later,  during  my  first  years  at  the  bar,  I  had 
been  gradually  dropping  it  altogether.  My  conscience, 
however,  was  never  quite  easy  about  it.  My  mother 
used  to  say  that  the  promise  as  to  training  up  a  child 
in  the  way  he  should  go  was  not  to  be  fulfilled  in  youth, 
but  in  age,  and  as  my  years  advanced,  I  began  to  find 
that  the  training  of  childhood  counted  for  more  and 
more.  Lilian  Poole,  however,  had  no  more  religion 
than  a  cat.  She  wished  to  be  comfortable  and  to  follow 
the  general  habit  of  the  feline  class  to  which  she  be 
longed.  She  went  to  the  Episcopal  Church  because  it 
was  fashionable,  and  whenever  she  had  half  an  excuse 
she  stayed  away  from  church  unless  it  were  on  a  new- 
bonnet  Sunday,  like  Easter  or  some  such  an  occasion, 
when  she  made  up  by  the  lowness  of  her  genuflexions 
and  the  apparent  devoutness  of  her  demeanor  for  all 
omissions.  I  must  confess  that  I  was  very  easily  influ 
enced  by  her  at  that  time,  and  was  quite  as  ready  to 

191 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

absent  myself  from  church  as  she  was,  though  I  should 
have  had  a  much  deeper  feeling  for  her  if  she  had  not 
violated  what  I  esteemed  a  canon  of  life,  that  women, 
at  least,  should  profess  religion,  and  if  she  had  not 
pretended  to  have  questionings  herself  as  to  matters  as 
far  beyond  her  intellect  as  the  Copernican  system  or 
Kepler's  laws.  I  remember  quoting  to  her  once  Dr. 
Johnson's  reply  to  Boswell,  when  the  latter  asked  if 
Poole,  the  actor,  were  not  an  atheist:  "Yes,  sir,  as  a 
dog  is  an  atheist;  he  has  not  thought  on  the  matter  at 
all." 

"Dr.  Samuel  Johnson?"  she  asked.  "You  mean 
the  one  who  wrote  the  Dictionary?"  and  I  saw  that  she 
was  so  pleased  with  her  literary  knowledge  in  knowing 
his  name  that  she  never  gave  a  thought  to  the  matter 
that  we  were  discussing,  so  let  it  drop. 

As  David  said,  that  in  his  trouble  he  called  upon  the 
Lord,  so  now,  in  my  solitude  and  poverty,  I  began  once 
more  to  think  on  serious  things,  and  when  Sunday  came 
I  would  dress  up  and  go  to  church,  partly  in  obedience 
to  the  feeling  I  speak  of,  and  partly  to  be  associated 
with  people  well  dressed  and  good  mannered,  or  pas 
sably  so.  The  church  I  selected  was  a  large  stone 

edifice,  St. 's,  with  a  gilded  cross  on  its  somewhat 

stumpy  spire,  toward  which  I  saw  a  richly  clad  con 
gregation  wending  their  way  Sunday  morning. 

The  rector,  as  was  stated  in  gilded  letters  on  a  large 
sign,  was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bartholomew  Capon.  I  cannot 
say  that  the  congregation  were  especially  refined  look 
ing  or  particularly  cordial;  in  fact,  they  were  very  far 

192 


THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM 

from  cordial,  and  the  solemn  verger  to  whom  I  spoke, 
after  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  my  request  for  a  seat,  took 
occasion,  as  soon  as  he  had  bowed  and  scraped  a  richly 
dressed,  stout  lady  up  the  aisle,  to  look  me  over  on  the 
sly,  not  omitting  my  shoes,  before  he  allowed  me  to  take 
a  seat  in  one  of  the  rear  pews. 

The  preacher — "The  Rector,"  as  he  spoke  of  himself 
in  the  notices,  when  he  occasionally  waived  the  rather 
frequent  first  personal  pronoun — was  a  middle-aged 
gentleman  with  a  florid  complexion,  a  sonorous  voice, 
a  comfortable  round  person,  and  fair  hands  of  which  he 
was  far  from  ashamed;  for  he  had  what,  but  for  my 
reverence  for  the  cloth,  I  should  call  a  trick  of  using  his 
hand  with  a  voluminous,  fine  cambric  handkerchief  held 
loosely  in  it.  His  face  was  self-contained  rather  than 
strong,  and  handsome  rather  than  pleasing.  He  was 
so  good-looking  that  it  set  me  on  reflecting  what  relation 
looks  bear  to  the  rectorship  of  large  and  fashionable 
churches;  for,  as  I  recalled  it,  nearly  all  the  rectors 
of  such  churches  were  men  of  looks,  and  it  came  to  me 
that  when  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  requested  his  old 
college  friend  to  send  him  down  a  chaplain,  he  desired 
him  to  find  out  a  man  rather  of  plain  sense  than  much 
learning,  of  a  good  aspect,  a  clear  voice,  a  sociable 
temper,  and,  if  possible,  a  man  who  knew  something 
of  backgammon.  His  sermon  was  altogether  a  second 
ary  consideration,  for  he  could  always  read  one  of  the 
Bishop  of  St.  Asaph's  or  Dr.  South's  or  Dr.  Tillotson's. 
Possibly,  it  is  something  of  the  same  feeling  that  subor 
dinates  the  sermons  to  the  looks  of  rectors  of  fashionable 

193 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

churches.  However,  I  did  not  have  long  to  reflect  on 
that  idea,  for  my  thoughts  were  given  a  new  and  perma 
nently  different,  not  to  say  pleasanter,  direction,  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  a  trim  figure,  clad  in  a  gray  suit 
and  large  gray  hat,  which,  as  it  moved  up  the  aisle,  quite 
eclipsed  for  me  "the  priest  and  all  the  people."  I  was 
struck,  first,  by  the  easy  grace  with  which  the  young 
girl  moved.  But,  before  she  had  turned  into  her  pew 
and  I  caught  sight  of  her  face  under  the  large  hat  which 
had  hidden  it,  I  knew  it  was  my  young  lady,  Miss  Leigh, 
whom  I  had  helped  up  on  the  train  and  afterward  into 
her  carriage.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Capon  secured  that  moment  a  new  permanent 
member  of  his  congregation.  Before  the  service  was 
over,  however,  I  had  been  solemnized  by  her  simple 
and  unaffected  devoutness,  and  when,  in  one  of  the 
chants,  I  caught  a  clear  liquid  note  perfectly  sweet  and 
birdlike,  I  felt  as  though  I  had  made  a  new  and  charm 
ing  discovery. 

The  rector  gave  a  number  of  notices  from  which  I 
felt  the  church  must  be  one  of  the  great  forces  of  the 
city  for  work  among  the  poor,  yet,-  when  I  glanced 
around,  I  could  not  see  a  poor  person  in  the  pews  except 
myself  and  two  old  ladies  in  rusty  black,  who  had  been 
seated  near  the  door.  I  was  struck  by  the  interest 
shown  in  the  notices  by  my  young  lady  of  the  large  hat, 
from  whose  shapely  little  head  with  its  well-coiled  brown 
hair  my  eyes  did  not  long  stray. 

"I  have,"  he  said,  "in  addition  to  the  notable  work 
already  mentioned,  carried  on,  through  my  assistant  in 

194 


THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM 

charge,  the  work  of  St.  Andrew's  chapel  with  gratftv- 
ing  success.  This  work  has  reached,  and  I  am  glad 
to  be  able  to  say,  is  reaching  more  than  ever  before,  the 
great  ignorant  class  that  swarms  in  our  midst,  and 
exhibits  a  tendency  to  unrest  that  is  most  disturbing. 
This  is  the  class  which  causes  most  of  the  uneasiness 
felt  in  the  minds  of  the  thoughtful." 

I  observed  that  he  did  not  mention  the  name  of  "  the 
assistant  in  charge,"  and  my  sympathy  rather  went  out 
to  the  nameless  priest,  doing  his  work  without  the 
reward  of  even  being  mentioned. 

As  to  the  sermon,  I  can  only  say  that  it  was  twenty 
minutes  long,  and  appeared  aimed  exclusively  at  the 
sins  of  Esau  (whom  I  had  always  esteemed  a  quite 
decent  sort  of  fellow),  rather  than  at  those  of  the 
doctor's  congregation,  whom  he  appeared  to  have  a 
higher  opinion  of  than  of  the  Patriarchs.  I  recall  the 
text:  "Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  all  these 
things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  He  made  it  very 
plain  that  to  be  pious  and  prudent  was  the  best  way 
to  secure  wealth.  He  held  up  a  worldly  motive  and 
guaranteed  a  worldly  reward.  Such  a  sermon  as  that 
would  have  eased  the  most  uneasy  conscience  in 
Christendom. 

When  the  congregation  came  out  I  dawdled  in  the 
aisle  until  my  young  lady  passed,  when  I  feasted  my 
eyes  on  her  face  and  finely  curved  cheek,  straight  nose, 
and  soft  eyes  veiled  under  their  long  lashes.  My  twt> 
old  ladies  in  black  were  waiting  in  the  end  of  a  pew  and, 
as  I  observed  by  their  smiles  when  she  approached, 

195 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

waiting  like  myself  to  see  her.  I  had  already  recognized 
them  as  the  old  ladies  of  the  bundles,  whom  I  had  once 
helped  on  the  street.  How  I  envied  them  the  smile  and 
cordial  greeting  they  received  in  return!  I  made  the 
observation  then,  which  I  have  often  had  confirmed 
since,  that  tenderness  to  the  aged,  like  that  to  the  very 
young,  is  the  mark  of  a  gentle  nature. 

I  heard  them  say,  "We  know  who  has  done  the  work 
out  at" the  Chapel,"  and  she  replied,  "Oh!  no,  you  must 
not  think  that.  My  poor  work  has  been  nothing.  Your 
friend  has  done  it  all,  and  I  think  that  the  Doctor  ought 
to  have  said  so,"  to  which  they  assented  warmly,  and  I 
did  the  same,  though  I  did  not  know  their  friend's  name. 

As  I  had  nowhere  to  go  in  particular,  I  strolled  slowly 
up  the  street,  and  then  walked  back  again.  And  as  I 
neared  the  church,  I  met  the  rector  who  had  just  left 
his  robing-room.  He  was  a  fine-looking  man  on  the 
street  as  well  as  in  the  chancel,  and  I  was  prompted  to 
speak  to  him,  and  say  that  I  had  just  heard  him  preach. 
He  was,  however,  too  impatient  at  my  accosting  him 
and  so  manifestly  suspicious  that  I  quickly  regretted  my 
impulse.  His,  "Well,  what  is  it?"  was  so  prompt  on 
his  lips  and  his  suspicion  of  me  was  so  clear  in  his  cold, 
bluish  eyes,  that  I  drew  myself  up  and  replied:  "Oh! 
nothing.  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  I  had  just  heard 
you  preach— that's  all." 

"Oh!  Ah!  Well,  I'm  much  obliged.  I'm  very  glad 
if  I've  helped  you."  He  pulle4  out  his  watch. 

"Helped  me!  You  haven't,"  I  said  dryly  and 
turned  away, 

196 


THE  SHADOW  OF  SHAM 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  as  I  strolled  along  the 
street  lonely  and  forlorn,  I  saw  him  hurrying  up  the 
steps  of  the  large  house  which  had  been  pointed  out  to 
me  as  Mrs.  Argand's,  the  great  philanthropist. 


197 


XVII 

THE  GULF 

As  I  saw  more  of  the  city,  its  vastness,  its  might  and 
its  inhumanity  grew  on  me.  It  was  a  world  in  itself, 
a  world  constructed  on  lines  as  different  from  that  in 
which  I  had  lived  as  if  it  had  been  Mars;  a  city  as  dif 
ferent  from  the  smaller  cities  I  had  known  as  if  it  had 
been  Babylon  or  Nineveh.  The  contrasts  were  as  great 
as  they  could  have  been  in  the  capitals  Sardanapalus 
built— structures  so  vast  that  they  must  have  dwarfed 
the  towers  of  Sardis — so  rich  and  splendid  that  the  Hang 
ing  Gardens  of  Babylon  must  have  been  outshone — 
reared  their  stupendous  bulk  into  the  smoky  air  and  cast 
into  perpetual  shade  all  that  lay  near  them.  Hard  beside 
their  towering  mass  lay  a  region  filled  with  the  wretched 
tenements  of  the  poor,  and  a  little  further  off  the  houses 
of  the  well-to-do.  And  there  was  not  a  greater  contrast 
between  the  vastness  of  the  one  and  the  pitiful  squalor 
of  the  other  than  between  the  life  of  the  owners  of  the 
former  and  that  of  the  denizens  of  the  closely  packed 
tenements  which  dwindled  in  their  shadow.  Splendor 
and  squalor  were  divided  often  only  by  a  brick  wall. 
The  roar  of  the  tide  that  swept  through  the  teeming 
streets  drowned  the  cry  of  wretchedness,  and  only  the 
wretched  knew  how  loud  it  was.  I  had  never  seen  such 
wealth,  and  I  had  never  dreamed  of  such  poverty. 

19.8 


THE  GULF 

The  vulgar  make  the  parade;  the  refined  pass  so 
quietly  as  scarcely  to  be  observed.  The  vulgarity  of 
the  display  of  riches  began  to  oppress  me.  I  discovered 
later  the  great  store  of  refinement,  goodness  and  sweet 
ness  that  was  hidden  in  the  homes  alike  of  an  element 
of  the  wealthy,  the  merely  well-to-do  and  the  poor. 
But  for  a  time  it  was  all  eclipsed  by  the  glare  of  the 
vulgar  and  irresponsible  rich.  Arrogance,  discontent, 
hardness,  vulgarity,  were  stamped  in  many  faces,  and 
spoke  in  every  movement  of  many  of  those  I  saw,  even 
of  the  most  richly  dressed. 

I  think  it  was  more  the  vulgarity  and  insolence  of 
those  I  saw  decked  in  the  regalia  of  wealth  than  any 
thing  else — than  even  my  own  poverty — that  changed 
my  views  and  turned  me  for  a  time  from  my  easy  in 
difference  as  to  social  conditions  toward  a  recognition 
that  those  conditions  are  ridiculously  antiquated,  a 
bent  I  have  never  quite  got  over,  though  I  was  later 
drawn  back  to  a  more  conservative  point  of  view  than, 
under  the  hatred  of  sham  and  the  spur  of  want,  I  was 
driven  to  occupy  for  some  time.  They  have  no  tradi 
tions  and  no  ideals.  They  know  no  standard  but 
wealth,  and  possess  no  ability  to  display  it  but  through 
parade.  They  feel  it  necessary  to  prove  their  novel 
position  by  continual  assertion.  They  think  that  wealth 
has  exempted  them  from  decency.  They  mistake 
civility  for  servility  and  rudeness  for  gentility.  Their 
best  effort  is  only  a  counterfeit,  a  poor  imitation  of 
what  they  imagine  to  be  the  manners  of  the  upper  class 
abroad  whose  indifferent  manners  they  ape. 

199 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Misery  loves  company,"  and  when  I  wanted  com 
fort  I  left  the  section  of  splendor  and  display,  of  riotous 
extravagance  and  glittering  wealth,  and  went  to  those 
poorer  than  myself;  a  practice  I  can  commend  from 
experience. 

When  I  got  so  desperate  that  I  could  not  stand  it  any 
longer,  and  was  afraid  I  might  fall  down  dead  or  do 
myself  violence,  I  used  to  turn  my  steps  in  another 
direction  and  walk  through  the  poorer  part  of  the  city— 
not  the  worst  part— where  there  was  nothing  but  dirt 
and  squalor  and  filth:  that  sickened  me,  and  I  had 
never  had  much  sympathy  with  the  class  that  lived 
there.  They  always  appeared  contented  enough  with 
their  surroundings  and  rather  to  enjoy  themselves  in 
their  own  way.  And  not  the  successful  workman's 
quarter.  There  was  an  assurance  and  assumption 
there  that  offended  me.  The  assumption  bred  of 
sudden  success,  no  matter  in  what  class,  is  everywhere 
equally  vulgar  after  its  kind.  It  was  the  part  of  the  city 
where  the  people  were  respectable,  but  where  they  could 
just  hold  on  with  all  their  struggling  and  striving,  that 
I  used  to  go  into;  the  part  where  there  were  patches,  not 
rags;  and  sometimes  an  effort  to  keep  down  the  dirt, 
and  where  a  bit  of  a  plant  in  a  little  pot  or  a  little  cheap 
ornament  in  a  window  told  of  the  spark  of  sentiment 
that  could  yet  live  amid  the  poverty  and  hardness  about 
it.  They  always  place  them  in  the  windows,  partly,  no 
doubt,  to  get  the  light,  and  partly,  perhaps,  to  show 
passers-by  that  there  is  something  within  better  than 
might  be  looked  for  next  door.  These  people  on  their 

200 


THE  GULF 

holidays  always  make  toward  the  open  country;  they 
try  to  get  away  from  their  robuster,  more  successful 
brothers,  and  get  back  near  to  Nature — the  old  mother 
that  cares  nothing  for  success ;  and  repays  only  accord 
ing  to  the  love  her  children  bear  her.  Here  I  often 
walked  as  I  grew  more  wretched. 

In  this  section  I  used  to  see  people  with  whom  I  felt 
in  touch :  a  man  with  the  badgered  look  in  his  eye  that 
made  me  know  that  he  was  at  bay;  or  a  woman  with 
that  resigned  air  which  hopeless  struggling  stamps  in 
the  face  and  binds  on  the  shoulders.  These  drew  me 
nearer  to  my  kind,  and  made  me  feel  that  there  were 
others  in  a  harder  case  than  I,  and  gave  me  a  desire 
to  help  them.  I  came  to  know  some  of  them  by  sight 
and  the  houses  in  which  they  lived,  and  sometimes  I 
spoke  to  them  and  exchanged  a  word  or  two,  and  the 
effort  to  take  a  cheerful  view  with  them  helped  me, 
and  sent  me  back  to  my  little  lonely  cubby-hole  cheered 
and  in  some  sort  comforted  and  resolute  to  hold  out  a 
little  longer.  But  it  was  hungry  work. 

This  element  composed  the  great  body  of  the  popu 
lation,  but  deep  down  below  them  lay  a  yet  lower  ele 
ment  weltering  in  an  infinite  and  hopeless  misery  to 
which  even  the  poor  class  I  speak  of  were  alien.  They 
were  generically  spoken  of  at  times  as  the  crimina) 
classes.  They  were  not  this  at  all,  though  among  them 
were  many  criminals — driven  to  crime  by  necessity — 
because  there  was  no  means  for  them  to  subsist,  no 
possible  means  nor  hope  outside  of  their  casual  and 
occasional  violation  of  the  statute  law  by  which  they 

201 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

secure  enough  for  empty  bellies  and  freezing  bodies 
merely  to  keep  alive.  They  live  among  and  on  the 
poor,  and  one  of  the  bitterest  trials  of  poverty  is  the 
continual  presence  and  preying  of  these  parasites  who 
like  other  vermin  pursue  them  and  cannot  be  kept  off. 
Their  only  common  crime  is  desperate,  infinite  poverty 
— poverty  beyond  hope,  for  they  have  nothing — not 
work,  nor  the  hope  of  work — not  even  the  power  to 
work,  if  it  should  be  offered  them  As  the  well-to-do 
look  with  anxiety  to  the  loss  of  their  property  and  the 
consequent  sinking  to  some  lower  plane  of  moderate 
poverty,  so  the  poor  look  with  shuddering  or,  at  last, 
with  despair  to  sinking  into  the  slough  of  this  hopeless 
state  for  which  there  is  no  name,  because  none  has 
been  devised  adequate  to  describe  its  desperate  misery. 
Often  but  a  block,  or  even  but  a  wall  divides  the  reeking 
slum  where  they  creep  and  fester  and  rot,  from  the 
broad,  well-lighted,  smooth-paved  avenue  where  irre 
sponsible  wealth  goes  clattering  by  in  its  wild  orgy  of 
extravagance  and  reckless  mirth.  The  eye  of  the 
mangy  and  starving  wolf  from  his  thicket  gleams  dully 
at  the  glittering  pageant  of  heartless  irresponsibility  and 
waste.  Should  the  pack  ever  find  a  leader  bold  enough 
to  spring,  what  will  be  the  end  ? 

At  present  they  are  hungry  enough,  but  they  have  not 
organized;  they  are  not  yet  a  hunting  pack,  but  only 
scattered  bands,  slinking  about  hungrily,  fighting  and 
preying  on  each  other,  the  larger  bands  with  the  bolder 
leaders  driving  off  the  weaker  and  unorganized.  But 
let  them  all  organize  once  and  the  end  will  not  be  yet. 

202 


THE  GULF 

Day  after  day  I  saw  my  last  few  dollars  leak  away,  and, 
though  I  replenished  my  thin  purse  at  times  by  pawning 
everything  pawnable  I  had,  yet  this,  too,  gradually 
oozed  away.  Fortunately  I  had  plenty  of  clothes, 
which  I  had  bought  in  my  flush  days,  so  I  could  still 
make  a  respectable  appearance. 

As  money  got  low  all  sorts  of  schemes  used  to  present 
themselves  to  me  to  replenish  my  pocket.  One  was 
to  go  out  as  a  laborer  on  the  streets,  clean  bricks,  or  do 
anything.  I  was  not  lazy.  I  would  have  walked 
around  the  world  for  a  case.  I  do  not  think  I  was 
ashamed  of  it,  for  I  knew  it  was  respectable,  but  I  was 
afraid  some  one  I  knew  might  pass  by;  I  was  afraid 
that  Pushkin  or  Mrs.  Starling  might  see  me,  and — yes, 
that  that  young  girl  from  the  colonial  house  might 
recognize  me.  I  had  often  thought  of  her  violets  since 
I  had  dropped  them  into  my  pocket-book.  And  now, 
when  this  idea  came  to  me,  I  took  them  out  and  looked 
at  them.  They  still  retained  a  faint  fragrance.  What 
would  be  the  result  if  she  should  pass  by  and  see  me 
cleaning  bricks — me  a  laborer,  and  Pushkin — the 
thoughts  came  together — should  see  me  ?  I  would  win 
on  my  own  line  if  it  took  me  all  my  life. 

The  idea  of  Pushkin  suggested  another  plan.  Why 
not  gamble?  Gambling  was  gentlemanly — at  least, 
gentlemen  gambled.  But  did  they  play  for  a  living? 
I  had  gambled  a  little  myself  in  the  past;  played  poker, 
and,  like  most  men,  prided  myself  on  my  game,  though 
I  generally  lost  in  the  long  run;  and  when  I  was  making 
good  resolutions  after  my  failure,  I  had  made  up  my 

203 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

mind  never  to  play  again  anywhere.  And  I  had  always 
held  to  the  opinion  that,  as  soon  as  a  man  played  for  his 
living,  he  crossed  the  line  and  ceased  to  be  a  gentleman. 
Now,  however,  it  began  to  appear  to  me  as  if  this  were 
the  only  plan  by  which  I  could  make  anything,  and  as 
if  I  should  have  a  good  excuse  for  breaking  my  resolu 
tion.  I  resisted  the  temptation  for  some  time;  but  one 
night,  when  I  had  pawned  nearly  everything  and  had 
only  three  or  four  dollars  left,  I  went  out,  and  after  a  long 
but  half-hearted  battle  gave  up,  as  such  are  always  lost, 
and  turned  into  a  street  across  an  alley  from  my  office 
where  I  knew  there  was  a  gambling  place  over  a  saloon 
kept  by  one  Mick  Raffity.  I  went  boldly  up  the  stairs. 
Even  as  I  mounted  them  I  felt  a  sort  of  exhilaration.  I 
stopped  at  the  door  and  my  old  resolution  not  to  play 
again  stirred  and  struggled  a  little.  I  caught  it,  however, 
with  a  sort  of  grip  almost  physical,  and  gave  it  a  shake 
till  it  was  quiet.  I  knew  I  should  win.  The  blaze  of 
light  within  cheered  me,  and,  without  hesitating  an 
instant,  I  walked  across  the  room  to  where  a  crowd 
stood  watching  the  play  of  some  one  seated  at  a  table. 
It  was  a  large  and  richly  decorated  room,  with  a  few 
rather  daring  pictures  on  the  walls  and  much  gilding 
about  the  ceiling.  The  hot  air,  heavy  with  tobacco 
smoke  and  fumes  of  one  kind  and  another,  met  me  in  a 
blast  as  I  entered,  and  involuntarily  I  thought  of  a 
sweat-shop  I  had  once  seen  in  my  earlier  days.  But 
the  sensation  passed  and  left  me  warm  and  exhilarated. 
As  I  passed  along,  a  man  looked  at  me  and  half  nodded. 
I  knew  he  was  the  proprietor.  I  made  my  way  in  and 

204 


THE  GULF 

caught  the  dealer's  expressionless  eye,  and  taking  out  a 
note  as  carelessly  as  if  my  pockets  were  stuffed  with 
them,  I  glanced  over  the  board  to  select  my  bet.  At 
one  end  of  the  table  sat  the  large,  heavy-browed,  middle- 
aged  man  I  had  run  into  one  night  on  the  stairway 
leading  from  the  alley  to  the  building  where  I  had  my 
office.  He  was  somewhat  tipsy  and  evidently  in  bad 
luck;  for  he  was  heated  and  was  betting  wildly.  Near 
by  sat  a  big,  sour-looking  fellow,  flashily  dressed,  whom 
I  recognized  as  having  been  one  of  my  fellow-travellers 
on  the  side-tracked  train,  the  one  who  had  talked  to  the 
trainmen  of  their  wrongs.  He  still  wore  his  paste 
diamonds,  his  silk  hat  and  patent-leather  shoes.  But 
I  took  little  notice  of  these.  Casually,  as  I  dropped  my 
note,  my  eye  fell  on  the  player  at  the  middle  of  the  table. 
He  was  surrounded  by  stacks  of  chips.  As  I  looked  he 
raked  in  a  new  pile;  at  least  a  hundred  dollars,  and  he 
never  changed  a  particle.  He  was  calmer  than  the 
dealer  before  him.  He  was  in  evening  dress  and 
success  had  given  him  quite  an  air.  I  caught  up  my 
note  without  knowing  it  and  fell  back  behind  a  group 
of  young  men  who  had  just  come  up.  Curious  things 
happen  sometimes.  I  found  my  note  doubled  up  in  my 
hand  when  I  had  got  out  of  doors,  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
later.  All  I  remember  is  my  revulsion  at  seeing  that 
gambler  sitting  there  raking  in  money  so  calmly,  with 
my  money  for  his  stake  in  his  pocket,  and  I  turned 
out  for  him:  an  adventurer  who  said  all  American 
women  were  at  his  bidding.  It  recalled  to  me  the 
girl  I  had  seen  on  the  train  and  had  handed,  later, 

205 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

into  her  carriage,  and  the  good  resolutions  I  had 
formed.  And  it  strung  me  up  like  wine.  I  felt  that  I 
was  a  coward  to  have  come  there  and  as  bad  as 
Pushkin. 

Just  as  I  turned  to  leave  the  place  a  party  of  young 
fellows  entered  the  room.  They  had  come  from  a 
dinner  at  Mr.  Leigh's,  as  I  understood  from  their 
talk,  and  were  "going  on"  to  a  dance  unless  the  luck 
should  run  to  suit  them.  They  were  in  high  spirits, 
"Mr.  Leigh's  champagne"  having  done  its  work,  and 
they  were  evidently  habitue's  of  the  place,  and  good 
patrons,  I  judged,  from  the  obsequious  respect  paid 
them  by  the  attendants.  The  leader  of  them  was  a 
large,  rather  good-looking  young  fellow,  but  with  marks 
of  dissipation  on  a  face  without  a  line  of  refinement  in 
it.  The  others  all  seemed  to  be  his  followers.  They 
greeted  familiarly  and  by  name  the  eager  attendants 
who  rushed  forward  to  take  their  coats,  and  the  leader 
asked  them  casually  who  was  in  to-night. 

"The  Count's  here,  I  think,  sir,"  said  one  whom 
they  called  Billy. 

"The  Count!  Coll  McSheen's  staked  him  again," 
said  the  young  leader.  "And  he  swore  to  me  he'd  never 
let  him  have  another  cent,  with  oaths  enough  to  damn 
him  deeper  than  he  will  be  damned  anyhow.  Come  on, 
I'll  skin  him  clean." 

I  lingered  for  a  moment  to  see  him  "skin"  Pushkin. 

They  sauntered  up  to  the  table  and,  after  a  greeting 
to  the  Count,  began  to  toss  bills  on  the  board  as  though 
they  grew  on  trees.  The  least  of  them  would  have  kept 

206 


THE  GULF 

me  going  for  months.    I  had  never  seen  money  handled 
so  before  and  it  staggered  me. 

"Who  is  that  young  man?"  I  asked  of  a  man  near 
me,  nodding  toward  the  leader.  "He  must  be  pretty 
rich." 

"Rich!  You  bet.  He's  Jim  Canter.  Got  all  his 
daddy's  money  and  going  to  get  all  the  Argand  and 
Leigh  piles  some  day.  He'll  need  it,  too,"  added  my 
informant. 

"I  should  think  so."  I  recalled  his  name  in  connec 
tion  with  Miss  Leigh's  name  in  the  account  of  the  ball, 
and  I  was  feeling  a  little  bitter. 

"Why,  he'd  just  as  lief  try  to  corner  water  as  to  bet 
a  hundred  dollar  bill  on  a  card.  This  is  just  play  to 
him.  He'd  give  all  he'd  win  to-night  to  any  one  of  his 
women." 

"His  women?" 

"Yes.    He's  one  of  the  real  upper  class." 

"The  upper  class!"  So  this  was  the  idea  of  the 
upper  class  held  by  this  man  and  his  kind!  My  soul 
revolted  at  the  thought  of  this  man  standing  as  the  type 
of  our  upper  class,  and  I  was  turning  away  when  Push 
kin  shoved  back  his  chair.  As  I  turned  he  looked  up 
and  I  saw  him  start,  though  I  did  not  catch  his  glance. 
The  dealer  saw  him,  too,  and  as  he  looked  at  me  I 
caught  his  eye.  He  motioned  to  me,  but  I  took  no  notice. 
As  I  walked  out  the  man  near  the  door  spoke  to  me. 

"There's  supper  in  the  next  room." 

"Thank  you.    I  don't  want  it." 

"  Come  in  again.    Better  luck  to-morrow." 
207 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"For  you,  I  hope,"  I  said,  and  I  saw  his  mystification. 

I  had  of  late  been  having  an  uncomfortable  thought 
which  was  beginning  to  worry  me.  The  idea  of  doing 
away  with  myself  had  suggested  itself  to  me  from  time 
to  time.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  ever  thought  I  should 
really  do  it;  for  when  I  reflected  seriously,  I  knew  I 
should  not.  In  the  first  place,  I  was  afraid;  and  in  the 
next  place,  I  never  gave  up  the  belief  that  I  should  some 
day  achieve  success.  When  I  analyzed  my  feelings  I 
found  that  the  true  name  for  my  unhappiness  was  ego 
tism.  But  the  idea  would  come  up  to  me  and  now  began 
to  pester  me.  I  had  a  pistol  which  I  could  never  bring 
myself  to  pawn,  though  nearly  everything  else  was 
pledged.  I  put  the  pistol  away;  but  this  did  not  help 
matters;  it  looked  like  cowardice.  So  that  evening  I 
had  taken  the  pistol  out  and  put  it  into  my  pocket  when 
I  went  into  the  street.  If  I  could  only  catch  some  bur 
glar  breaking  into  a  bank,  or  some  ruffian  beating  a 
woman,  or  some  scoundrel  committing  any  crime,  it 
would  attract  attention,  and  I  might  get  work.  I  often 
used  to  think  thus,  but  nothing  ever  happened,  and  I 
knew  nothing  would  happen  that  evening  when  I 
walked  out  of  the  gambling  house.  So  presently  the 
pistol  began  to  be  in  my  way,  and  my  mind  went  to 
working  again  on  the  ease  with  which  I  could  go  to  my 
office  and  lock  myself  in.  Still  I  kept  on,  and  presently 
I  found  myself  near  the  river,  a  black  stream  that  I  had 
often  thought  of  as  the  Styx.  It  was  as  black  and  silent 
now,  as  it  slipped  on  in  the  darkness,  as  the  River  of 
Death. 

208 


THE  GULF 

I  was  sauntering  along,  chewing  the  cud  of  fancy, 
wholly  bitter — and  sinking  lower  and  lower  every  step 
in  the  slough  of  despond,  working  over  what  would  come 
if  I  should  suddenly  chuck  up  the  whole  business  and 
get  out  of  life — pondering  how  I  should  destroy  all 
marks  by  which  there  could  be  any  possibility  of  iden 
tification,  when  the  current  of  my  thoughts,  if  that  moody 
train  of  dismal  reflection  could  be  dignified  with  such  a 
name,  was  turned  aside  by  a  small  incident.  As  I  wan 
dered  on  in  the  darkness,  the  figure  of  a  woman  stand 
ing — a  shadow  in  the  shadow — at  a  corner  of  an  alley 
arrested  my  attention.  Even  in  the  gloom  the  attitude 
of  dejection  was  such  as  to  strike  me,  and  I  saw  or  felt, 
I  know  not  which,  that  her  eyes  were  on  me,  and  that  in 
some  dim,  distant  way  they  contained  an  appeal.  I 
saw  that  she  was  young,  and  in  the  dusk  the  oval  out 
line  of  a  face  that  might  have  both  refinement  and  beauty 
challenged  my  attention.  Was  she  a  beggar  or  only  an 
unhappy  outcast,  waiting  in  the  darkness  for  the  sad 
reward  which  evil  chance  might  fling  to  her  wretched 
ness  ?  I  put  my  hand  in  my  pocket,  thinking  that  she 
might  beg  of  me,  and  I  would  give  her  a  small  portion 
of  my  slender  store,  but  she  said  nothing  and  I  passed 
on.  After  a  little,  however,  still  thinking  of  her  dejected 
air  and  with  a  sudden  sympathy  for  her  wretchedness, 
I  turned  back.  She  was  still  standing  where  I  left  her. 
I  passed  slowly  by  her,  but  she  said  nothing,  though  I 
felt  again  that  her  eyes  were  on  me.  Then  my  curiosity 
or  possibly,  I  may  say,  my  interest,  being  aroused,  I 
turned  again  and  walked  by  her. 

209 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Why  so  sad  to-night?"  I  said,  with  words  which 
might  have  appeared  flippant,  but  in  a  tone  which  she 
instantly  recognized  for  sympathy.  She  turned  half 
away  and  said  nothing  and  I  stood  silent  watching  her, 
for  her  face  must  once  have  been  almost  beautiful, 
though  it  was  now  sadly  marred,  and  an  ugly  scar  across 
her  eye  and  cheek,  as  if  it  might  have  come  from  the 
slash  of  a  razor,  made  that  side  drawn  and  distorted. 

"Do  you  want  money?" 

She  slowly  shook  her  head  without  looking  at  me. 

"What  is  it,  then ?    Maybe,  I  can  help  you ?" 

She  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  me  with  such  inde 
scribable  hopelessness  in  her  face  that  my  heart  went 
out  to  her. 

"No,  I'm  past  help  now." 

"Oh,  no,  you're  not."  My  spirits  rose  with  the 
words,  and  I  felt  suddenly  as  if  I  had  risen  out  of  the 
slough  which  had  been  engulfing  me,  and  as  though  I 
had  gotten  my  feet  on  a  firm  place  where  I  could  reach 
out  a  hand  to  help  this  despairing  and  sinking  sister. 

"Yes,  past  help  now." 

"  Come  and  walk  with  me."  And  as  she  did  not  stir, 
I  took  her  hand  and  drew  it  through  my  arm  and  gently 
led  her  forward  along  the  street.  I  had  a  strange  feeling 
as  I  walked  along.  I  somehow  felt  as  though  I  had  es 
caped  from  something  which  had  been  dragging  me 
down.  It  was  a  strange  walk  and  a  strange  and  tragic 
story  that  she  told  me — of  having  left  her  home  in  the 
country,  inspired  by  the  desire  to  do  something  and  be 
something  more  than  she  was,  a  simple  farmer's  daugb- 

210 


THE  GULF 

ter  in  another  State,  with  some  little  education  such  as 
the  country  schools  could  give;  of  having  secured  a  po 
sition  in  a  big  shop  where,  for  a  small  sum,  she  worked 
all  day  and  learned  to  see  and  love  fine  clothes  and 
beautiful  things;  of  having  fallen  in  with  one  or  two 
gay  companions  in  this  and  other  shops  who  wore  the 
fine  clothes  and  had  the  beautiful  things  she  admired; 
of  having  been  put  forward  because  she  was  pretty  and 
polite;  and  then  of  having  met  a  young  man,  well 
dressed  and  with  fine  manners ;  of  having  fallen  in  love 
with  him  and  of  having  accepted  his  attentions  and  his 
gifts;  and  then,  of  having  been  led  astray  by  him;  and 
then — of  such  an  act  of  base  betrayal  as,  had  I  not  had  it 
substantiated  afterward  in  every  horrid  detail,  I  should 
never  have  believed.  I  had  known  something  of  the 
wickedness  of  men  and  the  evil  of  an  uncontrolled  life 
in  the  city,  where  the  vilest  passions  of  the  heart  are 
given  play,  but  I  had  never  dreamed  of  anything  so  re 
volting  as  the  story  this  girl  told  me  that  night.  She 
had  been  deliberately  and  with  malice  aforethought 
lured  not  only  to  her  destruction  but  to  a  life  of  slavery 
so  vile  as  to  be  unbelievable.  The  man  who  had  se 
cured  her  heart  used  his  power  over  her  to  seize  and  sell 
her  into  a  slavery  for  which  there  is  no  name  which 
could  be  used  on  the  printed  page.  Here,  stricken  by 
the  horror  of  her  situation,  she  had  attempted  to  escape 
from  her  captors,  but  had  been  bodily  beaten  into  sub 
mission.  Then  she  had  made  a  wild  dash  for  liberty  and 
had  been  seized  and  slashed  with  a  knife  until  she  fell 
under  her  wounds  and  her  life  was  in  imminent  danger. 

211 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

From  this  time  she  gave  up  and  became  the  slave  of 
the  woman  of  the  house:  "Smooth  Ally,"  she  said  they 
called  her;  but  she  would  not  give  me  her  name  or  her 
address.  She  would  have  her  killed,  she  feared,  if  she 
did  so.  Here  she  gradually  had  yielded  to  her  fate  and 
had  lived  in  company  with  her  other  slaves,  some  will 
ing,  some  as  unwilling  as  herself,  until  finally  her  place 
was  needed  for  one  more  useful  to  her  owner,  when  she 
had  been  handed  on  from  one  owner  to  another  ^always 
sinking  in  the  scale  lower  and  lower,  until  at  last  she  had 
been  turned  into  the  street  with  her  choice  limited  only 
to  the  river  or  the  gutter.  Long  before  she  had  finished 
her  story  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  life  still  held  for 
me  something  which  I  might  do,  however  poor  and 
useless  I  knew  myself  to  be.  The  only  person  I  could 
think  of  who  might  help  her  was  Miss  Leigh.  How 
could  I  reach  her  ?  Could  I  write  her  of  this  poor  crea 
ture?  She  could  not  go  back  to  her  home,  she  said, 
for  she  knew  that  they  had  heard  of  her  life,  and  they 
were  "good  and  Christian  people."  She  used  to  write 
to  and  hear  from  them,  but  it  had  been  two  years  and 
more  since  she  had  written  or  heard  now.  Still  she  gave 
me  what  she  said  was  her  father's  address  in  another 
State,  and  I  told  her  I  would  find  out  how  they  felt 
about  her  and  would  let  her  know.  I  gave  her  a  part  of 
what  I  had.  It  was  very  little,  and  I  have  often  wished 
since  then  that  I  had  had  the  courage  to  give  her  all. 

I  was  walking  on  with  her,  trying  to  think  of  some 
place  where  she  might  find  a  shelter  and  be  taken  care 
of  until  her  friends  could  be  informed  where  she  was, 

212 


THE  GULF 

when,  in  one  of  the  streets  in  front  of  a  bar-room,  we 
heard  mingled  laughter  and  singing  and  found  a  group 
of  young  men,  ruffians  and  loafers,  standing  on  the  side 
walk,  laughing  at  the  singers  who  stood  in  the  street. 
As  we  drew  near,  I  saw  that  the  latter  were  a  small 
group  of  the  Salvation  Army,  and  it  appeared  to  me  a 
providence.  Here  were  some  who  might  help  her.  At 
the  moment  that  we  approached  they  ended  the  dirge- 
like  hymn  they  had  been  singing,  and  kneeling  down  in 
the  street  one  of  them  offered  a  prayer,  after  which  a 
woman  handed  around  something  like  a  tambourine, 
asking  for  a  collection.  The  jeers  that  she  encountered 
might  have  daunted  a  much  bolder  spirit  than  mine, 
and  as  each  man  either  put  in  or  pretended  to  put  some 
thing  in,  one  a  cent,  another  a  button  or  a  cigarette- 
stump,  she  responded,  "Thank  you  and  God  bless  you." 
I  was  ashamed  to  make  an  appeal  to  them  there  for  the 
poor  girl,  so  I  walked  with  her  a  little  further  on  and 
waited  until  the  blue-clad  detachment  came  along  and 
their  tormentors  retired  to  warm  themselves,  without 
and  within,  in  the  saloon  in  front  of  which  they  had 
been  standing.  I  accosted  the  woman  who  had  taken 
up  the  collection  and  asked  her  if  she  could  take  care 
of  a  poor  girl  who  needed  help  badly,  and  I  was  struck 
by  the  kindness  with  which  she  turned  and,  after  a 
moment's  glance,  held  out  her  hand  to  the  girl. 

"Come  with  us,"  she  said,  "and  we  will  take  you 
where  you  will  find  friends." 

Even  then  the  young  woman  appeared  too  frightened 
to  accept  her  invitation.  She  clung  to  me  and  seemed  to 

213 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

rely  upon  me,  asking  me  to  go  with  her,  but  partly  from 
shame  and  partly  from  what  may  possibly  have  been  a 
better  motive,  I  told  her  my  way  led  elsewhere,  and, 
after  persuasion,  she  went  with  the  Salvationists,  and  I 
walked  home  happier  than  I  had  been  in  some  time. 

I  even  took  some  steps  to  call  public  attention  to  the 
horrible  story  the  poor  Magdalen  had  told  me  of  her 
frightful  experience,  and  actually  wrote  it  up  ;  but 
when  I  took  it  to  a  paper — the  one  that  had  published 
my  first  article — I  was  given  to  understand  that  the 
account  was  quite  incredible.  The  editor,  a  fox-faced 
man  of  middle  age,  with  whom  my  paper  secured  me 
the  honor  of  an  interview,  informed  me  that  the  story 
was  an  old  one,  and  that  they  had  investigated  it 
thoroughly,  and  found  it  without  the  slightest  founda 
tion.  If  I  wanted  further  proof  of  this,  he  said,  he 
would  refer  me  to  Mr.  Collis  McSheen,  one  of  the 
leading  lawyers  in  the  city,  who  had  conducted  the  in 
vestigation. 


214 


XVIII 

THE  DRUMMER 

I  believe  Mrs.  Kale  would  have  let  me  stay  on  free 
almost  indefinitely;  for  she  was  a  kind-hearted  soul, 
much  imposed  on  by  her  boarders.  But  I  had  been 
playing  the  gentleman  there,  and  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  come  down  in  her  esteem.  I  really  did  not 
know  whether  I  should  be  able  to  continue  to  pay  her; 
so  when  my  time  was  up,  I  moved  again,  to  my  land 
lady's  great  surprise,  and  she  thought  me  stuck  up  and 
ungrateful,  and  was  a  little  hurt  over  it,  when,  in  fact, 
I  only  did  not  want  to  cheat  her,  and  was  moving  out  to 
the  poorest  part  of  the  city,  to  a  little  house  on  which  I 
had  observed,  one  afternoon  during  one  of  my  strolls, 
the  notice  of  a  room  for  rent  at  a  dollar  a  week.  I  think 
a  rose-bush  carefully  trained  over  the  door  decided  me 
to  take  it.  It  gave  me  a  bit  of  home-feeling.  The 
violet,  of  course,  is  in  color  and  delicacy  the  half- 
ethereal  emblem  of  the  tenderest  sentiment  of  the  heart. 
"The  violets  all  withered  when  my  father  died,"  sighed 
poor  Ophelia.  And  next  to  violets,  a  rose-bush,  grow 
ing  in  the  sun  and  dew,  has  ever  stood  to  me  for  the 
purest  sentiment  that  the  heart  can  hold. 

I  heard  shortly  afterward  of  the  engagement  of  Miss 
Lilian  Poole  to  the  man  she  used  to  laugh  at;  but  after  a 
single  wave  of  mortification  that  Peck  should  have  won 
where  I  had  lost,  I  did  not  mind  it.  I  went  out  to  look 

215 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

at  the  sunny  house  with  the  trees  and  the  rose-bushes 
about  it  and  wonder  how  I  could  meet  Miss  Leigh. 

The  room  I  took  when  I  left  Mrs.  Kale's  was  only  a 
cupboard  some  nine  feet  by  six  in  the  little  house  I  have 
mentioned;  but  it  was  spotlessly  clean,  like  the  kind- 
looking,  stout,  blue-eyed  Teuton  woman  who,  with  skirt 
tucked  up,  came  to  the  door  when  I  applied  for  lodging, 
and,  as  the  price  was  nearer  my  figure  than  any  other 
I  had  seen,  I  closed  with  Mrs.  Loewen,  and  the  after 
noon  I  left  Mrs.  Kale's  sent  my  trunk  over  in  advance. 
It  held  the  entire  accumulation  of  my  life.  There  was 
something  about  the  place  and  the  woman  that  attracted 
me.  As  poor  as  the  house  was,  it  was  beyond  the 
squalid  quarter  and  well  out  in  the  edge  of  the  city,  with 
a  bit  of  grass  before  it,  and  there  were  not  only  plants 
in  the  windows  well  cared  for;  but  there  was  even  a 
rose-bush  beside  the  door  making  a  feeble  attempt  to 
clamber  over  it  with  the  aid  of  strings  and  straps  care 
fully  adjusted. 

The  only  question  my  landlady  asked  me  was  whether 
I  was  a  musician,  and  when  I  told  her  no,  but  that  I  was 
very  fond  of  music,  she  appeared  satisfied.  Her  hus 
band,  she  said,  was  a  drummer. 

I  asked  if  I  might  bring  my  dog,  and  she  assented 
even  to  this. 

"Elsa  was  fond  of  animals,"  she  said. 

When  I  bade  good-by  to  Mrs.  Kale  and  my  friends 
at  the  boarding-house,  I  was  pleased  at  the  real  regret 
they  showed  at  my  leaving.  Miss  Pansy  and  Miss 
Pinky  came  down  to  the  drawing-room  in  their  "best" 

216 


THE  DRUMMER 

to  say  good-by;  Miss  Pinky  with  her  "scratch"  quite 
straight.  And  Miss  Pansy  said  if  they  ever  went  back 
home  she  hoped  very  much  I  would  honor  them  by 
coming  to  see  them,  while  Miss  Pinky,  with  a  more 
practical  turn,  hoped  I  would  come  and  see  them  "  there 
— and  you  may  even  bring  your  dog  with  you,"  she 
added,  with  what  I  knew  was  a  proof  of  real  friendship. 
I  promised  faithfully  to  come,  for  I  was  touched  by  the 
kindness  of  the  two  old  ladies  who,  like  myself,  had 
slipped  from  the  sphere  in  which  they  had  belonged, 
and  I  was  rather  grim  at  the  reflection  that  they  had  been 
brought  there  by  others,  while  I  had  no  one  to  blame 
but  myself — a  solemn  fact  I  was  just  beginning  to  face. 

When  I  walked  out  of  the  house  I  was  in  a  rather  low 
state  of  mind.  I  felt  that  it  was  the  last  day  when  I 
could  make  any  pretension  to  being  a  gentleman.  I 
had  been  slipping  down,  down,  and  now  I  was  very 
near  the  bottom.  So  I  wandered  on  in  the  street  with 
Dix  at  my  heels  and  my  pistol  in  my  pocket. 

Just  then  a  notice  of  a  concert,  placarded  on  a  wall, 
caught  my  eye,  and  I  gave  myself  a  shake  together  as 
an  unmitigated  ass,  and  determined  suddenly  that  I 
needed  some  amusement  and  that  a  better  use  for  the 
pistol  would  be  to  sell  it  and  go  to  the  concert.  I  would, 
at  least,  be  a  gentleman  once  more,  and  then  to-morrow 
I  could  start  afresh.  So  I  hunted  up  a  pawnshop  and 
raising  from  the  villain  who  kept  it  a  few  dollars  on  my 
pistol,  had  a  good  supper  and  then  took  Dix  home  and 
went  to  the  symphony.  As  it  happened,  I  got  one  of 
the  best  seats  in  the  house.  It  was  a  revelation  to  me — 

217 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

a  revolution  in  my  thoughts  and  feelings:  the  great 
audience,  gay  with  silks  and  flowers  and  jewels,  filling 
up  all  the  space  about  and  above  me  rising  up  to  the 
very  top  of  the  vast  auditorium.  I  did  not  have  time 
at  first  to  observe  them,  I  only  felt  them;  for  just  as  I 
entered  the  Director  came  out  and  the  audience  ap 
plauded.  ,It  exhilarated  me  like  wine;  I  felt  as  if  it  had 
been  myself  they  were  applauding.  Then  the  music 
began:  The  "Tannhauser  Overture."  It  caught  me  up 
and  bore  me  away:  knighthood,  and  glory,  and  love 
were  all  about  me;  the  splendor  of  the  contest;  the 
struggle  in  which  a  false  step,  a  cowardly  weakness 
might  fling  away  the  world;  the  reward  that  awaited  the 
victor,  and  the  curse  if  he  gave  way,  till  I  found  myself 
dazzled,  amazed,  and  borne  down  by  the  deluge  of 
harmonious  sound — and  could  do  nothing  but  lie  drift 
ing  at  the  mercy  of  the  whelming  tide,  and  watch,  half- 
drowned,  whatever  object  caught  my  eye.  The  first 
thing  I  took  in  was  the  tall  old  Drummer  who  towered 
above  the  great  bank  of  dark  bodies  with  swaying  arms. 
Still  and  solemn  he  appeared  out  of  the  mist,  and  seemed 
like  some  landmark  which  I  must  hold  on  to  if  I  would 
not  be  swept  away.  No  one  appeared  to  pay  much 
attention  to  him,  and  he  appeared  oblivious  of  all  but 
his  drums.  Now  he  leant  over  them  and  listened  to 
their  throbbing,  now  he  beat  as  if  the  whole  world  de 
pended  on  it.  I  held  on  to  him  and  felt  somehow  as  if 
he  were  the  one  to  whom  the  Director  looked — the 
centre  of  all  the  music  and  pomp  and  mystery,  and  I 
must  keep  him  in  sight. 

218 


THE  DRUMMER 

I  don't  know  much  of  what  came  on  the  programme 
after  that;  for  I  was  wakened  by  the  storm  of  applause 
which  followed  and  during  the  intermission  I  looked 
about  at  the  audience  around  me.  They  rilled  the 
house  from  floor  to  roof;  every  seat  was  occupied,  and 
the  boxes  looked  like  banks  of  flowers.  All  the  faces 
were  strange  to  me,  though,  and  I  was  beginning  to  feel 
lonely  again,  and  was  turning  to  my  old  Drummer, 
when,  sweeping  the  boxes,  my  eye  fell  on  a  girl  who 
caught  me  at  once.  She  was  sitting  a  little  forward 
looking  across  toward  the  orchestra  with  so  serious  an 
expression  on  her  lovely  face  that  I  felt  drawn  to  her 
even  before  I  took  in  that  she  was  the  girl  I  had  seen  on 
the  train  and  whom  I  had  handed  into  her  carriage. 
As  I  gazed  at  her  this  came  to  me — and  with  it  such  a 
warm  feeling  about  my  heart  as  I  had  not  had  in  a  long 
time.  I  looked  at  the  men  about  her,  one  of  whom  was 
the  good-looking  clergyman,  Dr.  Capon,  and  the  next 
instant  all  my  blood  was  boiling — there,  bending  down 
over  her,  talking  into  her  ear,  so  close  to  her  that  she  had 
to  sit  forward  to  escape  his  polluting  touch,  was  die 
gambler  whom  I  had  heard  say  not  three  weeks  before 
that  every  American  girl  was  open  to  a  proposal  from 
him.  I  don't  know  really  what  happened  after  that.  I 
only  remember  wishing  I  had  my  pistol  back — and  being 
glad  that  I  had  pawned  it,  not  sold  it;  for  I  made 
up  my  mind  anew  in  that  theatre  that  night  to  live  and 
succeed,  and  preserve  that  girl  from  that  adventurer. 
When  the  concert  was  over  I  watched  the  direction  they 
took,  and  made  my  way  through  the  crowd  to  the  exit  by 

219 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

which  they  would  go  into  the  foyer.  There  I  waited  and 
presently  they  came  along.  She  was  surrounded  by  a 
little  party  and  was  laughing  heartily  over  something  one 
of  them  had  just  said,  and  was  looking,  in  the  rich  pink 
wrap  which  enveloped  her,  like  a  rich  pink  rosebud.  I 
was  gazing  at  her  intently,  and  caught  her  eye,  and  no 
doubt  struck  by  my  look  of  recognition,  she  bowed.  She 
had  not  really  thought  of  me,  she  was  still  thinking  of 
what  had  been  said,  and  it  was  only  a  casual  bow  to 
some  one  in  a  crowd  who  knows  you  and  catches  your 
eye;  but  it  was  a  bow,  and  it  was  a  smiling  one,  and  again 
that  warm  feeling  surged  about  my  heart  which  had 
come  when  I  met  her  on  the  street.  The  next  second 
that  fellow  came  along.  He  was  taller  than  most  of  the 
crowd,  and  well  dressed,  was  really  a  handsome  enough 
fellow  but  for  his  cold  eyes  and  hard  look.  The  eyes 
were  too  bold  and  the  chin  not  bold  enough.  He  was 
walking  beside  a  large,  blondish  girl  with  shallow  blue 
eyes,  who  appeared  much  pleased  with  herself  or  with 
him,  but  at  the  moment  he  was  bowing  his  adieux  to 
her  while  she  was  manifestly  trying  to  hold  on  to  him. 

"I  don't  think  you  are  nice  a  bit,"  I  heard  her  say. 
petulantly,  as  they  came  up  to  me.  "You  have  not 
taken  the  least  notice  of  me  to-night." 

This  he  evidently  repudiated,  for  she  pouted  and 
smiled  up  at  him.  "Well,  then,  I'll  excuse  you  this 
time,  but  you  needn't  be  running  after  her.  She 
won't " 

I  did  not  hear  the  rest.  I  was  thinking  of  the  girl 
before  me. 

220 


THE  DRUMMER 

He  was  looking  over  the  heads  of  the  people  before 
him,  and  the  next  moment  was  elbowing  his  way  to 
overtake  my  young  lady.  Close  to  him  in  the  crowd, 
as  he  came  on,  stood  Mrs.  Starling's  daughter,  painted, 
and  in  her  best  finery,  and  I  saw  her  imploring  eyes 
fastened  on  him  eagerly.  He  glanced  at  her  and  she 
bowed  with  a  gratified  light  dawning  in  her  face.  I  saw 
his  face  harden.  He  cut  her  dead.  Poor  girl!  I  saw 
her  pain  and  the  look  of  disappointment  as  she  fur 
tively  followed  him  with  her  eyes.  He  pushed  on  after 
my  young  lady.  But  I  was  ahead  of  him.  Just  before 
he  reached  her,  I  slipped  in,  and  when  he  attempted  to 
push  by  I  stood  firm  before  him. 

"  Beg  pardon,"  he  said,  trying  to  pui  me  aside  to  step 
ahead  of  me.  I  turned  my  head  and  over  my  shoulder 
looked  him  in  the  face. 

"I  beg  your  pardon." 

"Oh!  "he  said.    "How  do?    Let  me  by." 

"To  ply  your  old  trade?"  I  asked,  looking  into  his 
eyes,  over  my  shoulder. 

"Ah!"  I  saw  the  rage  come  into  his  face  and  he 
swore  some  foreign  oath.  He  put  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder  to  push  me  aside;  but  I  half  turned  and  looked 
him  straight  in  the  eyes  and  his  grasp  relaxed.  He  had 
felt  my  grip  once — and  he  knew  I  was  not  afraid  of  him, 
and  thought  I  was  a  fool.  And  his  hand  fell. 

I  walked  in  front  of  him  and  kept  him  back  until  the 
party  with  my  young  lady  in  it  had  passed  quite  out  of 
the  door,  and  then  I  let  him  by.  For  that  evening,  at 
least,  I  had  protected  her. 

221 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  walked  to  my  lodging  with  a  feeling  of  more  content 
than  I  had  had  in  a  long  time.  My  heart  had  a  home 
though  I  had  none.  It  was  as  if  the  shell  in  which  I 
had  been  cramped  so  long  were  broken  and  I  should 
at  last  step  out  into  a  new  world.  I  had  a  definite  aim, 
and  one  higher  than  I  ever  had  had  before.  I  was  in 
love  with  that  girl  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  win  her. 
As  I  walked  along  through  the  gradually  emptying 
streets  my  old  professor's  words  came  to  me.  They 
had  been  verified.  I  reviewed  my  past  life  and  saw  as 
clearly  as  if  in  a  mirror  my  failures  and  false  steps.  I 
had  moped  and  sulked  with  the  world;  I  had  sat  in  my 
cubby-hole  of  an  office  with  all  my  talents  as  deeply 
buried  as  if  I  had  been  under  the  mounds  of  Troy, 
and  had  expected  men  to  unearth  me  as  though  I  had 
been  treasure. 

It  may  appear  to  some  that  I  exaggerated  my  feeling 
for  a  girl  whom  I  scarcely  knew  at  all.  But  love  is  the 
least  conventional  of  passions;  his  victory  the  most  un 
expected  and  unaccountable.  He  may  steal  into  the 
heart  like  a  thief  or  burst  in  like  a  robber.  The  zephyr 
is  not  so  wooing,  the  hurricane  not  so  furious.  Samson 
and  Hercules  lose  their  strength  in  his  presence  and, 
shorn  of  their  power,  surrender  at  discretion.  Mightier 
than  Achilles,  wilier  than  Ulysses,  he  leads  them  both 
captive,  and,  behind  them  in  his  train,  the  long  line  of 
captains  whom  Petrarch  has  catalogued  as  his  helpless 
slaves.  Why  should  it  then  be  thought  strange  that  a 
poor,  weak,  foolish,  lonely  young  man  should  fall  be 
fore  him  at  his  first  onset!  I  confess,  I  thought  it 

222 


THE  DRUMMER 

foolish,  and  yet  so  weak  was  I  that  I  welcomed  the 
arrow  that  pierced  my  heart,  and  as  I  sauntered  home 
ward  through  the  emptying  streets,  I  hugged  to  my 
breast  the  joy  that  I  loved  once  more. 

As  I  was  on  the  point  of  ringing  the  door-bell  there 
was  a  heavy  step  behind  me,  and  there  was  my  old 
Drummer  coming  along.  He  turned  in  at  the  little  gate. 
And  I  explained  that  I  was  his  new  lodger  and  had 
been  to  hear  him  play. 

"Ah!    You  mean  to  hear  the  orchestra?" 

"No,  I  don't.  I  meant,  to  hear  you — I  went  to  the 
concert,  but  I  enjoyed  you  most." 

"Ah!"  he  chuckled  at  the  flattery,  and  let  me  in, 
and  taking  a  survey  of  me,  invited  me  to  come  and 
have  a  bit  of  supper  with  him,  which  I  accepted. 
His  wife  came  in  and  waited  on  us,  and  he  told  her 
what  I  had  said,  with  pleasure,  and  she  laughed  over 
it  and  rallied  him  and  accepted  it,  and  accepted 
me  instantly  as  an  old  friend.  It  gave  me  a  new 
feeling. 

A  few  minutes  later  there  was  another  arrival.  A 
knock  on  the  street  door,  and  the  mother,  smiling  and 
winking  at  her  husband,  went  and  let  in  the  newcomers : 
a  plump,  round-cheeked  girl,  the  mingled  likeness  of 
her  two  parents,  with  red  cheeks,  blue  eyes,  smooth 
flaxen  hair  and  that  heifer-like  look  of  shyness  and  con 
tent  which  Teuton  maidens  have,  and  behind  her  a 
strapping  looking  young  fellow  with  powerful  shoulders, 
and  a  neck  cased  in  a  net  of  muscles,  a  clear  pink  skin 
and  blue  eyes,  and  with  a  roll  in  his  gait  partly  the  effect 

223 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

of  his  iron  muscles  and  partly  of  mere  bashfulness.  I 
was  introduced  and  the  first  thing  the  mother  did  was 
to  repeat  delightedly  the  compliment  I  had  paid  the 
father.  It  had  gone  home,  and  the  simple  way  the 
white  teeth  shone  around  that  little  circle  and  the  pride 
the  whole  family  took  in  this  poor  bit  of  praise,  told 
their  simplicity  and  warmed  my  heart.  The  father  and 
mother  were  evidently  pleased  with  their  daughter's 
young  man — for  the  mother  constantly  rallied  the 
daughter  about  Otto  and  Otto  about  her,  drawing  the 
father  in  with  sly  looks  and  knowing  tosses  of  her  head, 
and  occasionally  glancing  at  me  to  see  if  I  too  took  in 
the  situation.  Although  I  did  not  yet  know  a  word  of 
their  language,  I  could  understand  perfectly  what  she 
was  saying,  and  I  never  passed  an  evening  that  gave 
me  a  better  idea  of  family  happiness,  or  greater  satis 
faction.  When  I  went  up  to  my  little  room  I  seemed, 
somehow,  to  have  gotten  into  a  world  of  reality  and 
content:  a  new  world. 

I  awaked  in  a  new  world — the  one  I  had  reached  the 
night  before:  the  land  of  hope  and  content — and  when 
I  came  down-stairs  I  was  as  fresh  as  a  shriven  soul,  and 
I  walked  out  into  the  street  with  Dix  at  my  heel,  as 
though  I  owned  the  earth. 

The  morning  was  as  perfect  as  though  God  had  just 
created  light.  The  sky  was  as  blue  and  the  atmosphere 
as  clear  as  though  the  rain  that  had  fallen  had  washed 
away  with  the  smoke  all  impurity  whatsoever,  and 
scoured  the  floor  of  Heaven  afresh. 

Elsa,  with  her  chequered  skirt  turned  back  and  a 
224 


THE  DRUMMER 

white  apron  about  her  comely  figure,  was  singing  as 
she  polished  the  outer  steps,  before  going  to  her  work  in 
a  box  factory,  and  the  sun  was  shining  upon  her  bare 
head  with  its  smooth  hair,  and  upon  the  little  rose-bush 
by  the  door,  turning  the  rain-drops  that  still  hung  on  it 
into  jewels.  She  stopped  and  petted  Dix,  who  had  fol 
lowed  me  down-stairs,  and  Dix,  who,  like  his  master, 
loved  to  be  petted  by  a  pretty  woman,  laid  back  his 
ears  and  rubbed  his  head  against  her.  And,  an  hour 
later,  a  group  of  little  muddy  boys  with  their  books  in 
their  hands  had  been  beguiled  by  a  broad  puddle  on 
their  way  to  school  and  were  wading  in  the  mud  and 
laughing  over  the  spatters  and  splotches  they  were 
getting  on  their  clothes  and  ruddy  faces.  As  I  watched 
them,  one  who  had  been  squeezed  out  of  the  fun  and 
stood  on  the  sidewalk  looking  on  and  laughing,  sud 
denly  seized  with  fear  or  envy  shouted  that  if  they  did 
"not  come  on,  Mith  Thelly  would  keep  them  in";  and, 
stricken  with  a  sudden  panic,  the  whole  flock  of  little 
sand-pipers  started  off  and  ran  as  hard  as  their  dumpy 
legs  would  carry  them  around  the  corner.  I  seemed 
to  be  emancipated. 

I  made  my  breakfast  on  a  one-cent  loaf  of  bread, 
taking  a  little  street  which,  even  in  that  section,  was  a 
back  street,  to  eat  it  in,  and  for  butter  amused  myself 
watching  a  lot  of  little  children  (among  the  last  of 
whom  I  recognized  my  muddy  boys,  who  must  have 
found  another  puddle)  lagging  in  at  the  door  of  a  small 
old  frame  building,  which  I  knew  must  be  their  school, 
though  I  could  not  understand  why  it  should  be  in  such 

225 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

a  shanty  when  all  the  public  schools  I  had  seen  were 
the  most  palatial  structures. 

I  took  the  trouble  to  go  by  that  day  and  look  at  the 
house  on  the  corner.  It  was  as  sunny  as  ever.  And 
when  on  my  way  back  to  my  office  I  passed  Miss 
Leigh,  the  central  figure  of  a  group  of  fresh  looking 
girls,  I  felt  that  the  half  shy  smile  of  recognition  which 
she  gave  me  was  a  shaft  of  light  to  draw  my  hopes  to 
something  better  than  I  had  known.  Dix  was  with 
me,  and  he  promptly  picked  out  his  friend  and  received 
from  her  a  greeting  which,  curiously  enough,  raised  my 
hopes  out  of  all  reason.  I  began  to  feel  that  the  dog 
was  a  link  between  us. 


226 


XIX 

RE-ENTER  PECK 

It  happened  that  the  building  in  which  I  had  taken 
an  office  bore  a  somewhat  questionable  reputation. 
I  had  selected  it  because  it  was  cheap,  and  it  was  too 
late  when  I  discovered  its  character.  I  had  no  money 
to  move.  The  lawyers  in  it  were  a  nondescript  lot — 
criminal  practitioners,  straw-bail  givers,  haunters  of 
police  courts,  etc.;  and  the  other  occupants  were  as 
bad — adventurers  with  wild-cat  schemes,  ticket-scalp 
ers,  cranks,  visionaries  with  fads,  frauds,  gamblers,  and 
thieves  in  one  field  or  another,  with  doubtless  a  good 
sprinkling  of  honest  men  among  them. 

It  was  an  old  building  and  rather  out  of  the  line  of 
the  best  growth  of  the  city,  but  in  a  convenient  and 
crowded  section.  The  lower  floor  was  occupied  with 
bucket-shops  and  ticket-scalpers'  offices,  on  the  street; 
and  at  the  back,  in  a  sort  of  annex  on  an  alley,  was  a 
saloon  known  as  Mick  Raffity's;  the  owner  being  a 
solid,  double-jointed  son  of  Erin,  with  blue  eyes  as 
keen  as  tacks;  and  over  this  saloon  was  the  gambling 
house  where  I  had  been  saved  by  finding  Pushkin. 

On  the  second  floor,  the  best  offices  were  a  suite 
occupied  by  a  lawyer  named  McSheen,  a  person  of  con 
siderable  distinction,  after  its  own  kind,  as  was  the  shark 
created  with  other  fish  of  the  sea  after  its  kind :  a  lawyer 
of  unusual  shrewdness,  a  keen  political  boss,  and  a  suc- 

227 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

cessful  business  man.  I  had,  as  happened,  rented  a 
cubby-hole  looking  out  on  a  narrow  well  opposite  the 
rear  room  of  his  suite. 

Collis  McSheen  was  a  large,  brawny  man,  with  a 
broad  face,  a  big  nose,  blue  eyes,  grizzled  black  hair,  a 
tight  mouth  and  a  coarse  fist.  He  would  have  turned 
the  scales  at  two  hundred,  and  he  walked  with  a  step  as 
light  as  a  sick-nurse's.  The  first  time  I  ever  saw  him 
was  when  I  ran  into  him  suddenly  in  a  winding,  un- 
swept  back  stairway  that  came  down  on  an  alley  from 
the  floor  below  mine  and  was  used  mainly  by  those  in  a 
hurry,  and  I  was  conscious  even  in  the  dim  light  that 
he  gave  me  a  look  of  great  keenness.  As  he  appeared 
in  a  hurry  I  gave  way  to  him,  with  a  "Beg  pardon"  for 
my  unintentional  jostle,  to  which  he  made  no  reply 
except  a  grunt.  I,  however,  took  a  good  look  at  him  as 
he  passed  along  under  a  street  lamp,  with  his  firm  yet 
noiseless  step — as  noiseless  as  a  cat's — and  the  heavy 
neck  and  bulk  gave  me  a  sense  of  his  brute  strength, 
which  I  never  lost  afterward.  I  soon  came  to  know 
that  he  was  a  successful  jury-lawyer  with  a  gift  of  elo 
quence,  and  a  knack  of  insinuation,  and  that  he  was 
among  the  most  potent  of  the  political  bosses  of  the 
city,  with  a  power  of  manipulation  unequalled  by  any 
politician  in  the  community.  He  had  good  manners 
and  a  ready  smile.  He  was  the  attorney  or  legal  agent 
for  a  number  of  wealthy  concerns,  among  them  the 
Argand  estate,  and  had  amassed  a  fortune.  He  was 
also  "the  legal  adviser"  of  one  of  the  afternoon  papers, 
the  Trumpet,  in  which,  as  I  learned  later,  he  held,  though 

228 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

it  was  not  generally  known,  a  large  and  potent  interest. 
He  was  now  looming  up  as  the  chief  candidate  of  the 
popular  party  for  Mayor,  an  office  which  he  expected  to 
secure  a  few  months  later.  He  was  interested  in  a 
part  of  the  street-car  system  of  the  city,  that  part  in 
which  "the  Argand  estate "  held  the  controlling  in 
terest,  and  which  was,  to  some  extent,  the  rival  system 
of  that  known  as  the  "West  Line,"  in  which  Mr.  Leigh 
held  a  large  interest.  I  mention  these  facts  because, 
detached  as  they  appear,  they  have  a  strong  bearing  on 
my  subsequent  relation  to  McSheen,  and  a  certain 
bearing  on  my  whole  future.  But,  on  occasion  he  was 
as  ready  for  his  own  purposes  to  attack  these  interests 
secretly  as  those  opposed  to  them.  He  always  played 
his  own  hand.  To  quote  Kalender  "he  was  deep." 

My  first  real  meeting  with  him  gave  me  an  impres 
sion  of  him  which  I  was  never  able  to  divest  myself  of. 
I  was  in  my  little  dark  cupboard  of  an  office  very  lonely 
and  reading  hard  to  keep  my  mind  occupied  with  some 
other  subject  than  myself,  when  the  door  half  opened 
quietly,  with  or  without  a  preliminary  knock,  I  never 
could  tell  which,  and  a  large  man  insinuated  himself  in 
at  it  and,  after  one  keen  look,  smiled  at  me.  I  recalled 
afterward  how  catlike  his  entrance  was.  But  at  the 
moment  I  was  occupied  in  gauging  him.  Still  smiling 
he  moved  noiselessly  around  and  took  his  stand  with 
his  back  to  the  one  window. 

"You  are  Mr.  Glave?"  he  smiled.  "Glad  to  see 
you?"  He  had  not  quite  gotten  rid  of  the  interroga 
tion. 

229 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  expressed  my  appreciation  of  his  good-will  and 
with,  I  felt,  even  more  sincerity  than  his;  for  I  was 
glad  to  see  any  one. 

"Always  pleased  to  see  young  lawyers — specially  bright 
ones."  Here  I  smiled  with  pleasure  that  he  should  so 
admirably  have  "sized  me  up,"  as  the  saying  goes. 

"You  are  a  lawyer  also?"  I  hazarded. 

"Yes.  Yes.  I  see  you  are  studious.  I  always  like 
that  in  a  young  man — gives  him  breadth — scope." 

I  assented  and  explained  that  I  had  been  in  politics 
a  little  also,  all  of  which  he  appeared  to  think  in  my 
favor.  And  so  it  went  on  till  he  knew  nearly  all  about 
me.  In  fact,  I  became  quite  communicative.  It  had 
been  so  long  since  I  had  had  a  lawyer  to  talk  with.  I 
found  him  to  be  a  remarkably  well-informed  man,  and 
with  agreeable,  rather  insinuating  manners.  He  knew 
something  of  books  too,  and  he  made,  I  could  not  tell 
whether  consciously  or  unconsciously,  a  number  of 
literary  allusions.  One  of  them  I  recall.  It  was  a 
Spanish  proverb,  he  said:  "The  judge  is  a  big  man, 
but  give  your  presents  to  the  clerk." 

"Well,  you'll  do  well  here  if  you  start  right.  The 
tortoise  beats  the  hare,  you  know — every  time — ev-ery 
time." 

I  started,  so  apt  was  the  allusion.  I  wondered  if 
he  could  ever  have  known  Peck. 

"Yes,  I  know  that.  That's  what  I  mean  to  do," 
I  said. 

"  Get  in  with  the  right  sort  of  folks,  then  when  there's 
any  sweeping  done  you'll  be  on  the  side  of  the  handle." 

230 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

He  was  moving  around  toward  the  door  and  was  looking 
out  of  the  window  reflecting. 

"I  have  a  letter  to  a  gentleman  named  Leigh,"  I 
said.  "  I  have  not  yet  presented  it." 

"Ah!" 

I  turned  and  glanced  at  him  casually  and  was  struck 
with  the  singular  change  that  had  come  over  his  face. 
It  was  as  if  he  had  suddenly  drawn  a  fine  mask  over  it. 
His  eyes  were  calmly  fixed  on  me,  yet  I  could  hardly 
have  said  that  they  saw  me.  His  countenance  was 
absolutely  expressionless.  I  have  seen  the  same  de 
tached  look  in  a  big  cat's  eyes  as  he  gazed  through  his 
bars  and  through  the  crowd  before  him  to  the  far  jungle, 
ocean  spaces  away.  It  gave  me  a  sudden  shiver  and  I 
may  have  shown  that  I  was  startled,  but,  as  I  looked, 
the  mask  disappeared  before  my  eyes  and  he  was 
smiling  as  before. 

"Got  a  pretty  daughter?"  he  said  with  a  manner 
which  offended  me,  I  could  hardly  tell  why. 

"I  believe  so;  but  I  do  not  know  her."  I  was  angry 
with  myself  for  blushing,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  saw 
it  and  did  not  believe  me. 

"You  know  a  man  't  calls  himself  Count  Pushkin?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him." 

"He  knows  her  and  she  knows  him." 

"Does  she?     I  know  nothing  about  that." 

"Kind  o'  makin'  a  set  for  him,  they  say?" 

"  Is  she  ?  I  hardly  think  it  likely,  if  she  knows  him," 
I  said  coldly.  I  wondered  with  what  malignant  intu 
ition  he  had  read  my  thoughts. 

231 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Oh!  A  good  many  people  do  that.  They  like  the 
sound.  It  gives  'em  power." 

"Power!" 

"Yes.  Power's  a  pretty  good  thing  to  have.  You 
can — "  He  looked  out  of  the  window  and  licked  his 
lips  in  a  sort  of  reverie.  He  suddenly  opened  and  closed 
his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  crushing.  "Power  and 
money  go  togither  ?"  And  still  smiling,  with  a  fare 
well  nod,  he  noiselessly  withdrew  and  closed  the  door. 

When  he  was  gone  I  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of 
intense  relief,  and  also  of  intense  antagonism — a  feeling 
I  had  never  had  for  but  one  man  before— Peck:  a 
feeling  which  I  never  got  rid  of. 

One  evening  a  little  later  I  missed  Dix.  He  usually 
came  home  even  when  he  strayed  off,  which  was  not 
often,  unless  as  happened  he  went  with  Elsa,  for  whom 
he  had  conceived  a  great  fondness,  and  who  loved  and 
petted  him  in  return.  It  had  come  to  be  a  great  bond 
between  the  girl  and  me,  and  I  think  the  whole  family 
liked  me  the  better  for  the  dog's  love  of  the  daughter. 
But  this  evening  he  did  not  appear;  I  knew  he  was  not 
with  Elsa,  for  I  remembered  he  had  been  in  my  office 
during  the  afternoon,  and  in  consequence  I  spent  an 
unhappy  night.  All  sorts  of  visions  floated  before  my 
mind,  from  the  prize-ring  to  the  vivisection  table.  I 
rather  inclined  to  the  former;  for  I  knew  his  powerful 
chest  and  loins  and  his  scarred  shoulders  would  com 
mend  him  to  the  fancy.  I  thought  I  remembered  that 
he  had  gone  out  of  my  office  just  before  I  left  and  had 
gone  down  the  steps  which  led  to  the  alley  I  have 

232 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

mentioned.  This  he  sometimes  did.  I  recalled  that 
I  was  thinking  of  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh  and  had  not 
seen  or  thought  of  him  between  the  office  and  my 
home. 

I  was  so  disturbed  about  him  by  bedtime  that  I  went 
out  to  hunt  for  him  and  returned  to  my  office  by  the 
same  street  I  had  walked  through  in  the  afternoon. 
When  I  reached  the  building  in  which  my  office  was, 
I  turned  into  the  alley  I  have  mentioned  and  went  up 
the  back  stairway.  It  was  now  after  midnight  and  it 
was  as  black  as  pitch.  When  I  reached  my  office,  think 
ing  that  I  might  by  a  bare  possibility  have  locked  him  in, 
I  opened  the  door  and  walked  in,  closing  it  softly  be 
hind  me.  The  window  looked  out  on  the  well  left  for 
light  and  air,  and  was  open,  and  as  I  opened  the  door 
a  light  was  reflected  through  the  window  on  my  wall. 
I  stepped  up  to  close  the  window  and,  accidentally 
looking  across  the  narrow  well  to  see  where  the  light 
came  from,  discovered  that  it  was  in  the  back  office  of 
Coll  McSheen,  in  which  were  seated  Mr.  McSheen  and 
the  sour-looking  man  I  had  seen  on  the  train  with  the 
silk  hat  and  the  paste  diamond  studs,  and  of  all  persons 
in  the  world,  Peck!  The  name  Leigh  caught  my  ear 
and  I  involuntarily  stopped  without  being  aware  that 
I  was  listening.  As  I  looked  the  door  opened  and  a 
man  I  recognized  as  the  janitor  of  the  building  entered 
and  with  him  a  negro  waiter,  bearing  two  bottles  of 
champagne  and  three  glasses.  For  a  moment  I  felt  as 
though  I  had  been  dreaming.  For  the  negro  was 
Jeams.  I  saw  the  recognition  between  him  and  Peck, 

233 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  Jeams's  white  teeth  shone  as  Peck  talked  about 
him.    I  heard  him  say : 

"No,  suh,  I  don'  know  nuthin'  Jt  all  about  him.  Ise 
got  to  look  out  for  myself.  Yes,  suh,  got  a  good  place 
an'  I'm  gwine  to  keep  it!" 

He  had  opened  the  bottles  and  poured  out  the  wine, 
and  McSheen  gave  him  a  note  big  enough  to  make  him 
bow  very  low  and  thank  him  volubly.  When  he  had 
withdrawn  Peck  said: 

"You've  got  to  look  out  for  that  rascal.  He's  an 
awfully  smart  scoundrel." 

"Oh!    I'll  own  him,  body  and  soul,"  said  McSheen. 

"I  wouldn't  have  him  around  me." 

"Don't  worry — he  won't  fool  me.  If  he  does — " 
He  opened  and  closed  his  fist  with  the  gesture  I  had 
seen  him  use  the  first  day  he  paid  me  a  visit. 

"Well,  let's  to  business,"  he  said  when  they  had 
drained  their  glasses.  He  looked  at  the  other  men. 
"What  do  you  say,  Wringman  ?" 

"You  pay  me  the  money  and  I'll  bring  the  strike  all 
right,"  said  the  Labor-leader,  "and  I'll  deliver  the  vote, 
too.  In  ten  days  there  won't  be  a  wheel  turning  on  his 
road.  I'll  order  every  man  out  that  wears  a  West  Line 
cap  or  handles  a  West  Line  tool." 

The  "West  Line"!  This  was  what  the  street-car 
line  was  called  which  ran  out  into  the  poor  section  of 
the  city  where  I  lived,  which  Mr.  Leigh  controlled. 

"That's  all  right.    I'll  keep  my  part.    D n  him! 

I  want  to  break  him.     I'll  show  him  who  runs  this 

town.    With  his  d d  airs." 

234 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

"That's  it,"  said  Peck,  leaning  forward.  "It's  your 
road  or  his.  That's  the  way  I  figure  it."  He  rubbed 
his  hands  with  satisfaction.  "  I  am  with  you,  my  friends. 
You  can  count  on  the  Poole  interest  backing  you." 

"You'll  keep  the  police  off?"  said  the  Labor-leader. 

"Will  I?  Watch  'em!"  McSheen  poured  out  an 
other  glass,  and  offered  the  bottle  to  Peck,  who  declined 
it. 

"Then  it's  all  right.  Well,  you'd  better  make  a  cash 
payment  down  at  the  start,"  said  the  Labor-leader. 

McSheen  swore.  "Do  you  think  I  have  a  bank  in 
my  office,  or  am  a  faro  dealer,  that  I  can  put  up  a  pile 
like  that  at  midnight?  Besides,  I've  always  heard 
there're  two  bad  paymasters — the  one  that  don't  pay 
at  all  and  the  one  't  pays  in  advance.  You  deliver  the 
goods." 

"Oh!  Come  off,"  said  the  other.  "If  you  ain't  a 
faro  dealer,  you  own  a  bank — and  you've  a  barkeeper. 
Mick's  got  it  downstairs,  if  you  ain't.  S:>  put  up,  or 
you'll  want  money  sure  enough.  I  know  what  that 
strike's  worth  to  you." 

McSheen  rose  and  at  that  moment  I  became  aware 
of  the  impropriety  of  what  I  was  doing,  for  I  had  been 
absolutely  absorbed  watching  Peck,  and  I  moved  back, 
as  I  did  so,  knocking  over  a  chair.  At  the  sound  the 
light  was  instantly  extinguished  and  I  left  my  office  and 
hurried  down  the  stairs,  wondering  when  the  blow  was 
to  fall. 

The  afternoon  following  my  surprise  of  the  confer 
ence  in  McSheen 's  back  room,  there  was  a  knock  at  my 

235 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

door  and  Peck  walked  into  my  office.  I  was  surprised 
to  see  what  a  man-of-fashion  air  he  had  donned.  He 
appeared  really  glad  to  see  me  and  was  so  cordial  that 
I  almost  forgot  my  first  feeling  of  shame  that  he  should 
find  me  in  such  manifestly  straitened  circumstan 
ces,  especially  as  he  began  to  talk  vaguely  of  a  large 
case  he  had  come  out  to  look  after,  and  I  thought 
he  was  on  the  verge  of  asking  me  to  represent  his 
client. 

"You  know  we  own  considerable  interests  out  here 
both  in  the  surface  lines  and  in  the  P.  D.  &  B.  D.,  he 
said  airily. 

"No,  I  did  not  know  you  did.  I  remember  that  Mr. 
Poole  once  talked  to  me  about  some  outstanding  inter 
ests  in  the  P.  D.  &  B.  D.,  and  I  made  some  little  inves 
tigation  at  the  time;  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  his 
interest  had  lapsed;  but  he  never  employed  me." 

"Yes,  that's  a  part  of  the  interests  I  speak  of.  Mr. 
Poole  is  a  very  careful  man." 

"Very.  Well,  you  see  I  have  learned  my  lesson. 
I  have  learned  economy,  at  least,"  I  laughed  in  reply  to 
his  question  of  how  I  was  getting  along  in  my  new  home. 
He  took  as  he  asked  it  an  appraising  glance  at  the  poor 
little  office. 

"A  very  important  lesson  to  learn,"  he  said  senten- 
tiously.  "I  am  glad  I  learned  it  early."  He  was  so 
smug  that  I  could  not  help  saying, 

"  You  were  always  economical  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  hope  so.  I  always  mean  to  be.  You  get 
much  work?" 

236 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

"No,  not  much — yet;  still,  you  know,  I  always  had 
a  knack  of  getting  business,"  I  said.  "My  trouble  was 
that  I  used  to  disdain  small  things  and  I  let  others  attend 
to  them.  I  know  better  than  that  now.  I  don't  think  I 
have  any  right  to  complain." 

"  Oh — I  suppose  you  have  to  put  in  night  work,  too, 
then?"  he  added,  after  a  pause. 

This  then  was  the  meaning  of  his  call.  He  wished  to 
know  whether  I  had  seen  him  in  Coll  McSheen's  office 
the  night  before.  He  had  delivered  himself  into  my 
hands.  So,  I  answered  lightly. 

"Oh!  yes,  sometimes." 

I  had  led  him  up  to  the  point  and  I  knew  now  he 
was  afraid  to  take  a  step  further.  He  sheered  off. 

"Well,  tell  me  something,"  he  said,  "if  you  don't 
mind.  Do  you  know  Mr.  Leigh?" 

"What  Mr.  Leigh?" 

"  Mr.  Walter  Leigh,  the  banker. " 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you  at  all  that  I  do  not." 

"Oh!" 

I  thought  he  was  going  to  offer  me  a  case;  but  Peck 
was  economical.  He  already  had  one  lawyer. 

"I  had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  him  from  Mr. 
Poole,"  I  said.  "But  you  can  say  to  Mr.  Poole  that  I 
never  presented  it." 

"Oh!    Ah!    Well—  I'll  telf  him." 

"Do." 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  McSheen?" 

I  nodded  "Yes." 

"Do  you  know  him  well ?" 
237 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Does  any  one  know  him  well  ?"  I  parried. 

"He  has  an  office  in  this  building?" 

I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  tell  whether  this  was  an 
affirmation  or  a  question.  So  I  merely  nodded,  which 
answered  in  either  case.  But  I  was  pining  to  say  to 
him,  "Peck,  why  don't  you  come  out  with  it  and  ask  me 
plainly  what  I  know  of  your  conference  the  other 
night  ?  "  However,  I  did  not.  I  had  learned  to  play  a 
close  game. 

"Oh!  I  saw  your  nigger,  Jeams— ah— the  other 
day." 

"Did  you?  Where  is  he?"  I  wanted  to  find  him, 
and  asked  innocently  enough. 

"Back  at  home." 

"How  is  he  getting  on  ?" 

"Pretty  well,  I  believe.    He's  a  big  rascal." 

"Yes,  but  a  pleasant  one,  and  an  open  one." 

Peck  suddenly  rose,  "Well,  I  must  be  going.  I  have 
an  engagement  which  I  must  keep."  At  the  door  he 
paused.  "By  the  way,  Mrs.  Peck  begged  to  be  remem 
bered  to  you." 

He  had  a  way  of  blinking,  like  a  terrapin— slowly. 
He  did  so  now. 

He  did  not  mean  his  tone  to  be  insolent — only  to  be 
insolent  himself — but  it  was. 

"I'm  very  much  obliged  to  her.  Remember  me 
to  her." 

That  afternoon  I  strolled  out,  hoping  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  Miss  Leigh.  I  did  so,  but  Peck  was  riding  in  a  car 
riage  with  her  and  her  father.  So  he  won  the  last  trick, 

238 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

after  all.  But  the  rubber  was  not  over.  I  was  glad  that 
they  did  not  see  me,  and  I  returned  to  my  office  filled 
with  rage  and  determined  to  unmask  Peck  the  first 
chance  I  should  have,  not  because  he  was  a  trickster 
and  a  liar,  but  because  he  was  applying  his  trickiness 
in  the  direction  of  Miss  Leigh. 

That  night  the  weather  changed  and  it  turned  off 
cold.  I  remember  it  from  a  small  circumstance.  The 
wind  appeared  to  me  to  have  shifted  when  Miss  Leigh's 
carriage  drove  out  of  sight  with  Peck  in  it.  I  went  home 
and  had  bad  dreams.  What  was  Peck  doing  with  the 
Leighs?  Could  I  have  been  mistaken  in  thinking  he 
and  McSheen  had  been  talking  of  Mr.  Leigh  in  their 
conference  ?  For  some  time  there  had  been  trouble  on 
the  street-car  lines  of  the  city  and  a  number  of  small 
strikes  had  taken  place  on  a  system  of  lines  running 
across  the  city  and  to  some  extent  in  competition  with 
the  West  Line,  which  Mr.  Leigh  had  an  interest  in. 
According  to  the  press  the  West  Line,  which  ran  out 
into  a  new  section,  was  growing  steadily  while  the  other 
line  was  falling  back.  Could  it  be  that  McSheen  was 
endeavoring  to  secure  possession  of  the  West  Line? 
This,  too,  had  been  intimated,  and  Canter,  one  of  the 
richest  men  of  the  town,  was  said  to  be  behind  him. 
What  should  I  do  under  the  circumstances?  Would 
Peck  tell  Miss  Leigh  any  lies  about  me  ?  All  these  sug 
gestions  pestered  me  and,  with  the  loss  of  Dix,  kept  me 
awake,  so  that  next  morning  I  was  in  rather  a  bad 
humor. 

In  my  walk  through  the  poorer  quarter  on  my  way 
239 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

to  my  office  I  used  to  see  a  great  deal  of  the  children, 
and  it  struck  me  that  one  of  the  saddest  effects  of  pov 
erty — the  dire  poverty  of  the  slum — was  the  debase 
ment  of  the  children.  Cruelty  appears  to  be  the  natural 
instinct  of  the  young  as  they  begin  to  gain  in  strength. 
But  among  the  well-to-do  and  the  well-brought-up  of 
all  classes  it  is  kept  in  abeyance  and  is  trained  out.  But 
in  the  class  I  speak  of  at  a  certain  age  it  appears  to 
flower  out  into  absolute  brutality.  It  was  the  chief 
drawback  to  my  sojourn  in  this  quarter,  for  I  am  very 
fond  of  children,  and  the  effect  of  poverty  on  the  chil 
dren  was  the  saddest  part  of  my  surroundings.  To 
avoid  the  ruder  element,  I  used  to  walk  of  a  morning 
through  the  little  back  street  where  I  had  discovered  that 
morning  the  little  school  for  very  small  children,  and  I 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  number  of  the  children  who 
attended  the  school.  One  little  girl  in  particular  in 
terested  me.  She  was  the  poorest  clad  of  any,  but  her 
cheeks  were  like  apples  and  her  chubby  wrists  were  the 
worst  chapped  of  all;  and  with  her  sometimes  was  a 
little  crippled  girl,  who  walked  with  a  crutch,  whom 
she  generally  led  by  the  hand  in  the  most  motherly  way, 
so  small  that  it  was  a  wonder  how  she  could  walk,  much 
more  study. 

My  little  girls  and  I  got  to  that  point  of  intimacy  where 
they  would  talk  to  me,  and  Dix  had  made  friends  with 
them  and  used  to  walk  beside  them  as  we  went  along. 

The  older  girl's  first  name  was  Janet,  but  she  spoke 
with  a  lisp  and  I  could  not  make  out  her  name  with  a 
certainty.  Her  father  had  been  out  of  work,  she  said, 

240 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

but  now  was  a  driver,  and  her  teacher  was  "Mith 
Thellen."  The  little  cripple's  name  was  "Sissy"— 
Sissy  Talman.  This  was  all  the  information  I  could 
get  out  of  her.  "Mith  Thellen"  was  evidently  her 
goddess. 

On  the  cool,  crisp  morning  after  the  turn  in  the 
weather,  I  started  out  rather  earlier  than  usual,  intend 
ing  to  hunt  for  Dix  and  also  to  look  up  Jeams.  I  bought 
a  copy  of  the  Trumpet  and  was  astonished  to  read  an 
account  of  trouble  among  the  employees  of  the  West 
Line,  for  I  had  not  seen  the  least  sign  of  it.  The  piece 
went  on  further  to  intimate  that  Mr.  Leigh  had  been 
much  embarrassed  by  his  extension  of  his  line  out  into 
a  thinly  populated  district  and  that  a  strike,  which  was 
quite  sure  to  come,  might  prove  very  disastrous  to  him. 
I  somehow  felt  very  angry  at  the  reference  to  Mr.  Leigh 
and  was  furious  with  myself  for  having  written  for  the 
Trumpet.  I  walked  around  through  the  street  where 
the  school  was,  though  without  any  definite  idea  what 
ever,  as  it  was  too  early  for  the  children.  As  I  passed 
by  the  school  the  door  was  wide  open  and  I  stopped  and 
looked  in.  The  fire  was  not  yet  made.  The  stove  was 
open;  the  door  of  the  cellar,  opening  outside,  was  also 
open,  and  at  the  moment  a  young  woman — the  teacher 
or  some  one  else — was  backing  up  the  steps  out  of  the 
cellar  lugging  a  heavy  coal-scuttle.  One  hand,  and  a 
very  small  one,  was  supporting  her  against  the  side  of 
the  wall,  helping  her  push  herself  up.  I  stepped  forward 
with  a  vague  pity  for  any  woman  having  to  lift  such  a 
weight. 

241 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Won't  you  let  me  help  you?"  I  asked. 

"Thank  you,  I  believe  I  can  manage  it."  And  she 
pulled  the  scuttle  to  the  top,  where  she  planted  it,  and 
turned  with  quite  an  air  of  triumph.  It  was  she!  my 
young  lady  of  the  sunny  house:  Miss  Leigh!  I  had  not 
recognized  her  at  all.  Her  face  was  all  aglow  and  her 
eyes  were  filled  with  light  at  a  difficulty  overcome.  I 
do  not  know  what  my  face  showed;  but  unless  it  ex 
pressed  conflicting  emotions,  it  belied  my  feelings.  I 
was  equally  astonished,  delighted  and  embarrassed.  I 
hastened  to  say  something  which  might  put  her  at  her 
ease  and  at  the  same  time  prove  a  plea  for  myself,  and 
open  the  way  to  further  conversation. 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  my  law-office,  and  seeing  a  lady 
struggling  with  so  heavy  a  burden,  I  had  hoped  I  might 
have  the  privilege  of  assisting  her  as  I  should  want  any 
other  gentleman  to  do  to  my  sister  in  a  similar  case." 
I  meant  if  I  had  had  a  sister. 

She  thanked  me  calmly;  in  fact,  very  calmly. 

"I  do  it  every  morning;  but  this  morning,  as  it  is  the 
first  cold  weather,  I  piled  it  a  little  too  high;  that  is  all." 
She  looked  toward  the  door  and  made  a  movement. 

I  wanted  to  say  I  would  gladly  come  and  lift  it  for 
her  every  morning;  that  I  could  carry  all  her  burdens 
for  her.  But  I  was  almost  afraid  even  to  ask  permission 
again  to  carry  it  that  morning.  As,  however,  she  had 
given  me  a  peg,  I  seized  it. 

"Well,  at  least,  let  me  carry  it  this  morning,"  I  said, 
and  without  waiting  for  an  answer  or  even  venturing 
to  look  at  her,  I  caught  up  the  bucket  and  swung  it  into 

242 


RE-ENTER  PECK 

the  house,  when  seeing  the  sticks  all  laid  in  the  stove, 
and  wishing  to  do  her  further  service,  without  asking 
her  anything  more,  I  poured  half  the  scuttleful  into  the 
stove. 

"I  used  to  be  able  to  make  a  fire,  when  I  lived  in  my 
old  home,"  I  said  tentatively;  then  as  I  saw  a  smile 
coming  into  her  face,  I  added:  "But  I'm  afraid  to  try 
an  exhibition  of  my  skill  after  such  boasting,"  and  with 
out  waiting  further,  I  backed  out,  bringing  with  me  only 
a  confused  apparition  of  an  angel  lifting  a  coal-scuttle. 

I  do  not  remember  how  I  reached  my  office  that  day, 
whether  I  walked  the  stone  pavements  through  the 
prosaic  streets  or  trod  on  rosy  clouds.  There  were  no 
prosaic  streets  for  me  that  day.  I  wondered  if  the 
article  I  had  seen  in  the  paper  had  any  foundation. 
Could  Mr.  Leigh  have  lost  his  fortune?  Was  this  the 
reason  she  taught  school  ?  I  had  observed  how  simply 
she  was  dressed,  and  I  thrilled  to  think  that  I  might  be 
able  to  rescue  her  from  this  drudgery. 

The  beggars  who  crossed  my  path  that  morning  were 
fortunate.  I  gave  them  all  my  change,  even  relieving 
the  necessities  of  several  thirsty  imposters  who  beset  my 
way,  declaring  with  unblushing,  sodden  faces  that  they 
had  not  had  a  mouthful  for  days. 

I  walked  past  the  little  school-house  that  night  and 
lingered  at  the  closed  gate,  finding  a  charm  in  the  spot. 
The  little  plain  house  had  suddenly  become  a  shrine. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  might  be  hovering  near. 

The  next  morning  I  passed  through  the  same  street, 
and  peeped  in  at  the  open  door.  There  she  was,  bend- 

243 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ing  over  the  open  stove  in  which  she  had  already  lighted 
her  fire,  little  knowing  of  the  flame  she  had  kindled  in 
my  heart.  How  I  cursed  myself  for  being  too  late  to 
meet  her.  And  yet,  perhaps,  I  should  have  been  afraid 
to  speak  to  her;  for  as  she  turned  toward  the  door,  I 
started  on  with  pumping  heart  in  quite  a  fright  lest  she 
should  detect  me  looking  in. 

I  walked  by  her  old  home  Sunday  afternoon.  Flowers 
bloomed  at  the  windows.  As  I  was  turning  away,  Count 
Pushkin  came  out  of  the  door  and  down  the  steps.  As 
he  turned  away  from  the  step  his  habitual  simper 
changed  into  a  scowl;  and  a  furious  joy  came  into  my 
heart.  Something  had  gone  wrong  with  him  within 
there.  I  wished  I  had  been  near  enough  to  have  crossed 
his  path  to  smile  in  his  face;  but  I  was  too  distant,  and 
he  passed  on  with  clenched  fist  and  black  brow. 

After  this  my  regular  walk  was  through  the  street  of 
the  baby-school,  and  when  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  meet 
Miss  Leigh  she  bowed  and  smiled  to  me,  though  only  as 
a  passing  acquaintance,  whilst  I  on  my  part  began  to 
plan  how  I  should  secure  an  introduction  to  her.  Her 
smile  was  sunshine  enough  for  a  day,  but  I  wanted  the 
right  to  bask  in  it  and  I  meant  to  devise  a  plan.  After 
what  I  had  told  Peck,  I  could  not  present  my  letter;  I 
must  find  some  other  means.  It  came  in  an  unexpected 
way,  and  through  the  last  person  I  should  have  imagined 
as  my  sponsor. 


244 


XX 

MY  FIRST  CLIENT 

But  to  revert  to  the  morning  when  I  made  Miss 
Leigh's  fire  for  her.  I  hunted  for  Dix  all  day,  but 
without  success,  and  was  so  busy  about  it  that  I  did  not 
have  time  to  begin  my  search  for  Jeams.  That  evening, 
as  it  was  raining  hard,  I  treated  myself  to  the  unwonted 
luxury  of  a  ride  home  on  a  street-car.  The  streets  were 
greasy  with  a  thick,  black  paste  of  mud,  and  the  smoke 
was  down  on  our  heads  in  a  dark  slop.  Like  Petrarch, 
my  thoughts  were  on  Laura,  and  I  was  repining  at  the 
rain  mainly  because  it  prevented  the  possibility  of  a 
glimpse  of  Miss  Leigh  on  the  street:  a  chance  I  was 
ever  on  the  watch  for. 

I  boarded  an  open  car  just  after  it  started  and  just 
before  it  ran  through  a  short  subway.  The  next  mo 
ment  a  man  who  had  run  after  the  car  sprang  on  the 
step  beside  me,  and,  losing  his  footing,  he  would  probably 
have  fallen  and  might  have  been  crushed  between  the 
car  and  the  edge  of  the  tunnel,  which  we  at  that  moment 
were  entering,  had  I  not  had  the  good  fortune,  being  on 
the  outer  seat,  to  catch  him  and  hold  him  up.  Even  as  it 
was,  his  coat  was  torn  and  my  elbow  was  badly  bruised 
against  the  pillar  at  the  entrance.  I,  however,  pulled 
him  over  across  my  knees  and  held  him  until  we  had 
gone  through  the  subway,  when  I  made  room  for  him 
on  the  seat  beside  me. 

245 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"That  was  a  close  call,  my  friend,"  I  said.  "Don't 
try  that  sort  of  thing  too  often." 

"It  was,  indeed — the  closest  I  ever  had,  and  I  have 
had  some  pretty  close  ones  before.  If  you  had  not 
caught  me,  I  would  have  been  in  the  morgue  to-morrow 
morning." 

This  I  rather  repudiated,  but  as  the  sequel  showed, 
the  idea  appeared  to  have  become  fixed  in  his  mind. 
We  had  some  little  talk  together  and  I  discovered  that, 
like  myself,  he  had  come  out  West  to  better  his  fortune, 
and  as  he  was  dressed  very  plainly,  I  assumed  that,  like 
myself,  he  had  fallen  on  rather  hard  times,  and  I  ex 
pressed  sympathy.  "Where  have  I  seen  you  before?" 
I  asked  him. 

"  On  the  train  once  coming  from  the  East." 

"Oh!  yes."  I  remembered  now.  He  was  the  man 
who  knew  things. 

"You  know  Mr.  McSheen?"  he  asked  irrelevantly. 

"Yes — slightly.  I  have  an  office  in  the  same  build- 
ing." 

I  wondered  how  he  knew  that  I  knew  him. 

"Yes.  Well,  you  want  to  look  out  for  him.  Don't 
let  him  fool  you.  He's  deep.  What's  that  running 
down  your  sleeve  ?  Why,  it's  blood !  Where  did  it  come 
from?"  He  looked  much  concerned. 

"From  my  arm,  I  reckon.  I  hurt  it  a  little  back 
there,  but  it  is  nothing." 

He  refused  to  be  satisfied  with  my  explanation  and 
insisted  strongly  on  my  getting  off  and  going  with  him 
to  see  a  doctor.  I  laughed  at  the  idea. 

246 


MY  FIRST  CLIENT 

"Why,  I  haven't  any  money  to  pay  a  doctor,"  I  said. 

"It  won't  cost  you  a  cent.  He  is  a  friend  of  mine 
and  as  good  a  surgeon  as  any  in  the  city.  He's  straight 
— knows  his  business.  You  come  along." 

So,  finding  that  my  sleeve  was  quite  soaked  with 
blood,  I  yielded  and  went  with  him  to  the  office  of  his 
friend,  a  young  doctor  named  Traumer,  who  lived  in  a 
part  of  the  town  bordering  on  the  working  people's 
section,  which,  fortunately,  was  not  far  from  where  we 
got  off  the  car.  Also,  fortunately,  we  found  him  at 
home.  He  was  a  slim  young  fellow  with  a  quiet,  self- 
assured  manner  and  a  clean-cut  face,  lighted  by  a  pair 
of  frank,  blue  eyes. 

"Doc,"  said  my  conductor,  "here's  a  friend  of  mine 
who  wants  a  little  patching  up." 

"That's  the  way  with  most  friends  of  yours,  Bill," 
said  the  doctor,  who  had  given  me  a  single  keen  look. 
"What's  the  matter  with  him?  Shot?  Or  have  the 
pickets  been  after  him  ? " 

"No,  he's  got  his  arm  smashed  saving  a  man's  life." 

"What!  Well,  let's  have  a  look  at  it.  He  doesn't 
look  very  bad."  He  helped  me  off  with  my  coat  and,  as 
he  glanced  at  the  sleeve,  gave  a  little  exclamation. 

"Hello!" 

"Whose  life  did  he  save?"  he  asked,  as  he  was  bind 
ing  up  the  arm.  "That's  partly  a  mash." 

"Mine." 

"Oh!  I  see."  He  went  to  work  and  soon  had  me 
bandaged  up.  "Well,  he's  all  right  now.  WTiat  were 
you  doing?"  he  asked  as  he  put  on  the  last  touches. 

247 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Jumping  on  a  car." 

"Ah!"  The  doctor  was  manifestly  amused.  "You 
observe  that  our  friend  is  laconic  ?  "  he  said  to  me. 

"What's  that?"  asked  the  other.  "Don't  prejudice 
him  against  me.  He  don't  know  anything  against  me 
yet — and  that's  more  than  some  folks  can  say." 

"Who  was  on  that  car  that  you  were  following?" 
asked  the  doctor,  with  a  side  glance  at  my  friend.  The 
latter  did  not  change  his  expression  a  particle. 

"  Doc,  did  you  ever  hear  what  the  parrot  said  to  her 
self  after  she  had  sicked  the  dog  on,  and  the  dog  not 
seeing  anything  but  her,  jumped  on  her  ? " 

"No— what?" 

"Tolly,  you  talk  too  d d  much.'" 

The  doctor  chuckled  and  changed  the  subject. 
"What's  your  labor-friend,  Wringman,  doing  now? 
What  did  he  come  back  here  for?" 

"Same  old  thing — dodging  work." 

"He  seems  to  me  to  work  other  people  pretty  well." 

The  other  nodded  acquiescingly. 

"  He's  on  a  new  line  now.  McSheen's  got  him.  Yes, 
he  has,"  as  the  doctor  looked  incredulous. 

"What's  he  after?    Who's  he  working  for?" 

"Same  person — Coll  McSheen.  Pretty  busy,  too. 
Mr.  Glave  there  knows  him  already." 

"  Glave!— Glave! "  repeated  the  doctor.  "Where  did 
I  hear  your  name  ?  Oh,  yes!  Do  you  know  a  preacher 
named  John  Marvel!" 

"John  Marvel!  Why,  yes.  I  went  to  college  with 
him.  I  knew  him  well." 

248 


MY  FIRST  CLIENT 

"You  knew  a  good  man  then." 

"  He  is  that,"  said  the  other  promptly.  "  If  there  were 
more  like  him  I'd  be  out  of  a  job." 

"You  know  Miss  Leigh,  too?" 

"What  Miss  Leigh?"  My  heart  warmed  at  the 
name  and  I  forgot  all  about  Marvel.  How  did  he  know 
that  I  knew  her  ? 

"'The  Angel  of  the  Lost  Children/" 

" ' The  Angel— '  ?  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh  ?  "  Then  as 
he  nodded — "Slightly."  My  heart  was  now  quite 
warm.  "  Who  called  her  so  ?  " 

"She  said  she  knew  you.  I  look  after  some  of  her 
friends  for  her." 

"Who  called  her  the  'Angel  of  the  Lost  Children1?" 

"A  friend  of  mine — Leo  Wolff ert,  who  works  in  the 
slums — a  writer.  She's  always  finding  and  helping 
some  one  who  is  lost,  body  or  soul." 

"Leo  Wolff  ert!    Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"I  guess  we  all  know  him,  don't  we,  Doc?"  put  in 
the  other  man.  "And  so  do  some  of  the  big  ones." 

"Rather." 

"And  the  lady,  too — she's  a  good  one,  too,"  he 
added. 

I  was  so  much  interested  in  this  part  of  the  conversa 
tion  that  I  forgot  at  the  moment  to  ask  the  doctor  where 
he  had  known  John  Marvel  and  Wolffert. 

I,  however,  asked  him  what  I  owed  him,  and  he  re 
plied, 

"  Not  a  cent.  Any  of  Langton's  friends  here  or  John 
Marvel's  friends,  or  (after  a  pause)  Miss  Leigh's  friends 

249 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

may  command  me.  I  am  only  too  glad  to  be  able  to 
serve  them.  It's  the  only  way  I  can  help." 

"That's  what  I  told  him,"  said  my  friend,  whose 
name  I  heard  for  the  first  time.  "I  told  him  you 
weren't  one  of  these  Jew  doctors  that  appraise  a  man 
as  soon  as  he  puts  his  nose  in  the  door  and  skin  him 
clean." 

"I  am  a  Jew,  but  I  hope  I  am  not  one  of  that 
kind." 

"No;  but  there  are  plenty  of  'em." 

I  came  away  feeling  that  I  had  made  two  friends  well 
worth  making.  They  were  real  men. 

When  I  parted  from  my  friend  he  took  out  of  his 
pocket-book  a  card.  "  For  my  friends,"  he  said,  as  he 
handed  it  to  me.  When  I  got  to  the  light  I  read  : 

"Wm.  Langton,  Private  Detective." 

It  was  not  until  long  afterward  that  I  knew  that  the 
man  he  was  following  when  he  sprang  on  the  car  and 
I  saved  him  was  myself,  and  that  I  owed  the  atten 
tion  to  my  kinsman  and  to  Mr.  Leigh,  to  whom  Peck 
had  given  a  rather  sad  account  of  me.  My  kinsman 
had  asked  him  to  ascertain  how  I  lived. 

I  called  on  my  new  friend,  Langton,  earlier  than  he 
had  expected.  In  my  distress  about  Dix  I  consulted 
him  the  very  next  day  and  he  undertook  to  get  him 
back.  I  told  him  I  had  not  a  cent  to  pay  him  with  at 
present,  but  some  day  I  should  have  it  and  then — — 

"You'll  never  owe  me  a  cent  as  long  as  you  live,"  he 
said.  "  Besides,  I'd  like  to  find  that  dog.  I  remember 
him.  He's  a  good  one.  You  say  you  used  the  back 

250 


MY  FIRST  CLIENT 

stairway  at  times,  opening  on  the  alley  near  Mick 
Raffity's?" 

"Yes." 

He  looked  away  out  of  the  window  with  a  placid  ex 
pression. 

"  I  wouldn't  go  down  that  way  too  often  at  night,"  he 
said  presently. 

"Why?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know.  You  might  stumble  and  break 
your  neck.  One  or  two  men  have  done  it." 

"Oh!  I'll  be  careful,"  I  laughed.  "I'm  pretty  sure 
footed." 

"You  need  to  be — there.  You  say  your  dog's  a  good 
fighter?" 

"He's  a  paladin.  Can  whip  any  dog  I  ever  saw.  I 
never  fought  him,  but  I  had  a  negro  boy  who  used  to 
take  him  off  till  I  stopped  him." 

"Well,  I'll  find  him— that  is,  I'll  find  where  he  went." 

I  thanked  him  and  strolled  over  across  town  to  try  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  "Angel  of  the  Lost  Children."  I 
•saw  her  in  a  carriage  with  another  young  girl,  and  as  I 
gazed  at  her  she  suddenly  turned  her  eyes  and  looked 
straight  at  me,  quite  as  if  she  had  expected  to  see  me, 
and  the  smile  she  gave  me,  though  only  that  which  a 
pleasant  thought  wings,  lighted  my  heart  for  a  week. 

A  day  or  two  later  my  detective  friend  dropped  into 
my  office. 

"Well,  I  have  found  him."  His  face  showed  that 
placid  expression  which,  with  him,  meant  deep  satisfac 
tion.  "The  police  have  him — are  holding  him  in  a  case, 

251 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

but  you  can  identify  and  get  him.  He  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  negro  dog-stealer  and  they  got  him  in  a  raid.  They 
pulled  one  of  the  toughest  joints  in  town  when  there 
was  a  fight  going  on  and  pinched  a  full  load.  The 
nigger  was  among  them.  He  put  up  a  pretty  stiff  fight 
and  they  had  to  hammer  him  good  before  they  quieted 
him.  He'll  go  down  for  ninety  days  sure.  He  was  a 
fighter,  they  said — butted  men  right  and  left." 

"I'm  glad  they  hammered  him — you're  sure  it's 
Dix?" 

"Sure;  he  claimed  the  dog;  said  he'd  raised  him. 
But  it  didn't  go.  I  knew  he'd  stolen  him  because  he 
said  he  knew  you." 

"Knew  me — a  negro?  What  did  he  say  his  name 
was?" 

"They  told  me — let  me  see — Professor  Jeams — 
something." 

"Not  Woodson?" 

"Yes,  that's  it." 

"Well,  for  once  in  his  life  he  told  the  truth.  He 
sold  me  the  dog.  You  say  he's  in  jail?  I  must  go 
and  get  him  out" 

"You'll  find  it  hard  work.  Fighting  the  police  is 
a  serious  crime  in  this  city.  A  man  had  better  steal, 
rob,  or  kill  anybody  else  than  fight  an  officer." 

"Who  has  most  pull  down  there?" 

"Well,  Coll  McSheen  has  considerable.  He  runs 
the  police.  He  may  be  next  Mayor." 

I  determined,  of  course,  to  go  at  once  and  see  what 
I  could  do  to  get  Jeams  out  of  his  trouble.  I  found 

252 


MY  FIRST  CLIENT 

him  in  the  common  ward  among  the  toughest  criminals 
in  the  jail — a  massive  and  forbidding  looking  structure 
— to  get  into  which  appeared  for  a  time  almost  as 
difficult  as  to  get  out.  But  on  expressing  my  wish  to 
be  accorded  an  interview  with  him,  I  was  referred  from 
one  official  to  another,  until,  with  my  back  to  the  wall, 
I  came  to  a  heavy,  bloated,  ill-looking  creature  who 
went  by  the  name  of  Sergeant  Byle.  I  preferred  my 
request  to  him.  I  might  as  well  have  undertaken  to 
argue  with  the  stone  images  which  were  rudely  carved 
as  Caryatides  beside  the  entrance.  He  simply  puffed 
his  big  black  cigar  in  silence,  shook  his  head,  and 
looked  away  from  me;  and  my  urging  had  no  other 
effect  than  to  bring  a  snicker  of  amusement  from  a 
couple  of  dog-faced  shysters  who  had  entered  and, 
with  a  nod  to  him,  had  sunk  into  greasy  chairs. 

"Who  do  you  know  here?" 

A  name  suddenly  occurred  to  me,  and  I  used  it. 

"Among  others,  I  know  Mr.  McSheen,"  and  as  I 
saw  his  countenance  fall,  I  added,  "and  he  is  enough 
for  the  present. "  I  looked  him  sternly  in  the  eye. 

He  got  up  out  of  his  seat  and  actually  walked  across 
the  room,  opened  a  cupboard  and  took  out  a  key,  then 
rang  a  bell. 

"Why  didn't  you  say  you  were  a  friend  of  his?"  he 
asked  surlily.  "A  friend  of  Mr.  McSheen  can  see  any 
one  he  wants  here." 

I  have  discovered  that  civility  will  answer  with  nine- 
tenths  or  even  nineteen-twentieths  of  the  world,  but 
there  is  a  class  of  intractable  brutes  who  yield  only  to 

253 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

force  and  who  are  influenced  only  by  fear,  and  of  them 
was  this  sodden  ruffian.  He  led  the  way  now  sub 
serviently  enough,  growling  from  time  to  time  some 
explanation,  which  I  took  to  be  his  method  of  apologiz 
ing.  When,  after  going  through  a  number  of  cor 
ridors,  which  were  fairly  clean  and  well  ventilated, 
we  came  at  length  to  the  ward  where  my  unfortunate 
client  was  confined,  the  atmosphere  was  wholly  differ 
ent:  hot  and  fetid  and  intolerable.  The  air  struck 
me  like  a  blast  from  some  infernal  region,  and  behind 
the  grating  which  shut  off  the  miscreants  within  from 
even  the  modified  freedom  of  the  outer  court  was  a 
mass  of  humanity  of  all  ages,  foul  enough  in  appearance 
to  have  come  from  hell. 

At  the  call  of  the  turnkey,  there  was  some  interest 
manifested  in  their  evil  faces  and  some  of  them  shouted 
back,  repeating  the  name  of  Jim  Woodson;  some  half 
derisively,  others  with  more  kindliness.  At  length, 
out  of  the  mob  emerged  poor  Jeams,  but,  like  Lucifer, 
Oh,  how  changed!  His  head  was  bandaged  with  an 
old  cloth,  soiled  and  stained;  his  mien  was  dejected, 
and  his  face  was  swollen  and  bruised.  At  sight  of  me, 
however,  he  suddenly  gave  a  cry,  and  springing  for 
ward  tried  to  thrust  his  hands  through  the  bars  of  the 
grating  to  grasp  mine.  "Lord,  God!"  he  exclaimed. 
"If  it  ain't  de  Captain.  Glory  be  to  God!  Marse 
Hen,  I  knowed  you'd  come,  if  you  jes'  heard  'bout  me. 
Git  me  out  of  dis,  fur  de  Lord's  sake.  Dis  is  de  wuss 
place  I  ever  has  been  in  in  my  life.  Dey  done  beat  me 
up  and  put  handcuffs  on  me,  and  chain  me,  and  fling 

254 


MY  FIRST  CLIENT 

me  in  de  patrol-wagon,  and  lock  me  up  and  sweat  me, 
and  put  me  through  the  third  degree,  till  I  thought  if 
de  Lord  didn't  take  mercy  'pon  me,  I  would  be  gone 
for  sho.  Can't  you  git  me  out  o'  dis  right  away  ?" 

I  explained  the  impossibility  of  doing  this  imme 
diately,  but  assured  him  that  he  would  soon  be  gotten 
out  and  that  I  would  look  after  his  case  and  see  that  he 
got  justice. 

"Yes,  sir,  that  is  what  I  want — jestice — I  don't  ax 
nothin'  but  jestice." 

"How  did  you  get  here?"  I  demanded.  And  even 
in  his  misery,  I  could  not  help  being  amused  to  see  his 
countenance  fall. 

"Dey  fetched  me  here  in  de  patrol- wagon,"  he  said 
evasively. 

"I  know  that.     I  mean,  for  what?" 

"Well,  dey  say,  Captain,  dat  I  wus  desorderly  an* 
drunk,  but  you  know  I  don'  drink  nothin'." 

"I  know  you  do,  you  fool,"  I  said,  with  some  ex 
asperation.  "I  have  no  doubt  you  were  what  they 
say,  but  what  I  mean  is,  where  is  Dix  and  how  did  you 
get  hold  of  him?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Marse  Hen,  it's  dthis  way,"  said 
Jeams  falteringly.  "I  come  here  huntin'  fur  you  and 
I  couldn'  fin'  you  anywheres,  so  then  I  got  a  place,  and 
while  I  wus  lookin'  'roun'  fur  you  one  day,  I  come 
'pon  Dix,  an'  as  he  wus  lost,  jes'  like  you  wus,  an'  he 
didn't  know  where  you  wus,  an'  you  didn't  know  where 
he  wus,  I  tuk  him  along  to  tek  care  of  him  till  I  could 
fin'  you." 

255 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"And  incidentally  to  fight  him?"  I  said. 

Again  Jeams's  countenance  fell.  "No,  sir,  that  I 
didn't,"  he  declared  stoutly.  "Does  you  think  I'd 
fight  dthat  dog  after  what  you  toP  me?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  I  know  you  did,  so  stop  lying  about  it 
and  tell  me  where  he  is,  or  I  will  leave  you  in  here  to 
rot  till  they  send  you  down  to  the  rockpile  or  the 
penitentiary." 

"Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir,  I  will.  Fur  God's  sake,  don'  do 
dat,  Marse  Hen.  Jes'  git  me  out  o'  here  an'  I  will  tell 
you  everything;  but  I'll  swear  I  didn't  fight  him;  he 
jes'  got  into  a  fight  so,  and  then  jist  as  he  hed  licked 
de  stuffin  out  of  dat  Barkeep  Gallagin's  dog,  them 

d d  policemen  come  in  an'  hammered  me  over  the 

head  because  I  didn't  want  them  to  rake  in  de  skads 
and  tek  Dix  'way  from  me." 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  his  contradictions. 

"Well,  where  is  he  now?" 

"I'll  swear,  Marse  Hen,  I  don'  know.  You  ax  the 
police.  I  jes'  know  he  ain't  in  here,  but  dey  knows 
where  he  is.  I  prays  night  and  day  no  harm  won't 
happen  to  him,  because  dat  dog  can  beat  ary  dog  in 
this  sinful  town.  I  jes'  wish  you  had  seen  him." 

As  the  turnkey  was  now  showing  signs  of  impatience, 
I  cut  Jeams  short,  thereby  saving  him  the  sin  of  more 
lies,  and  with  a  promise  that  I  would  get  him  bailed 
out  if  I  could,  I  came  away. 

The  turnkey  had  assured  me  on  the  way  that  he 
would  find  and  return  me  my  dog,  and  was  so  sincere 
in  his  declaration  that  nothing  would  give  him  more 

256 


MY  FIRST  CLIENT 

pleasure  than  to  do  this  for  any  friend  of  Mr.  McSheen's, 
that  I  made  the  concession  of  allowing  him  to  use  his 
efforts  in  this  direction.  But  I  heard  nothing  more  of 
him. 

With  the  aid  of  my  friend,  the  detective,  I  soon 
learned  the  names  of  the  police  officers  who  had 
arrested  Jeams,  and  was  enabled  to  get  from  them  the 
particulars  of  the  trouble  which  caused  his  arrest. 

It  seemed  that,  by  one  of  the  strange  and  fortuitous 
circumstances  which  so  often  occur  in  life,  Jeams  had 
come  across  Dix  just  outside  of  the  building  in  which 
was  my  law  office,  and  being  then  in  his  glory,  he  had 
taken  the  dog  into  the  bar-room  of  Mick  Raffity, 
where  he  had  on  arrival  in  town  secured  a  place,  to 
see  what  chance  there  might  be  of  making  a  match 
with  Dix.  The  match  was  duly  arranged  and  came 
off  the  following  night  in  a  resort  not  far  from  Raffity's 
saloon,  and  Dix  won  the  fight.  Just  at  this  moment, 
however,  the  police  made  a  raid,  pulled  the  place  and 
arrested  as  many  of  the  crowd  as  could  not  escape, 
and  held  on  to  as  many  of  those  as  were  without 
requisite  influence  to  secure  their  prompt  discharge. 
In  the  course  of  the  operation,  Jeams  got  soundly 
hammered,  though  I  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  for 
being  drunk  or  for  engaging  in  a  scrimmage  with  the 
police.  Jeams  declared  privately  that  it  was  to  pre 
vent  his  taking  down  the  money. 

When  the  trial  came  off,  I  had  prepared  myself  fully, 
but  I  feel  confident  that  nothing  would  have  availed 
to  secure  Jeams's  acquittal  except  for  two  circum- 

257 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

stances:  One  was  that  I  succeeded  in  enlisting  the  in 
terest  of  Mr.  McSheen,  who  for  some  reason  of  his 
own  showed  a  disposition  to  be  particularly  civil  and 
complacent  toward  me  at  that  time — so  civil  indeed 
that  I  quite  reproached  myself  for  having  conceived  a 
dislike  of  him.  Through  his  intervention,  as  I  learned 
later,  the  most  damaging  witness  against  my  client 
suddenly  became  exceedingly  friendly  to  him  and  on 
the  witness-stand  failed  to  remember  any  circumstance 
of  importance  which  could  injure  him,  and  finally  de 
clared  his  inability  to  identify  him. 

The  result  was  that  Jeams  was  acquitted,  and  when 
he  was  so  informed,  he  arose  and  made  a  speech  to  the 
Court  and  the  Jury  which  would  certainly  fix  him  in 
their  memory  forever.  In  the  course  of  it,  he  declared 
that  I  was  the  greatest  lawyer  that  had  ever  lived  in  the 
world,  and  I  had  to  stop  him  for  fear,  in  his  ebullient 
enthusiasm,  he  might  add  also  that  Dix  was  the  greatest 
dog  that  ever  lived. 


258 


XXI 

THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

Still,  I  had  not  got  Dix  back,  and  I  meant  to  find 
him  if  possible !  It  was  several  days  before  I  .could  get 
on  the  trace  of  him,  and  when  I  undertook  to  get  the 
dog  I  found  an  unexpected  difficulty  in  the  way.  I  was 
sent  from  one  office  to  another  until  my  patience  was 
almost  exhausted,  and  finally  when  I  thought  I  had,  at 
last,  run  him  down,  I  was  informed  that  the  dog  was 
dead.  The  gapped-tooth  official,  with  a  pewter  badge 
on  his  breast  as  his  only  insignia  of  official  rank,  on  my 
pressing  the  matter,  gave  me  a  circumstantial  account 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  dog  came  to  his  death.  He 
had  attempted,  he  said,  to  get  through  the  gate,  and  it 
had  slammed  to  on  him  accidentally,  and,  being  very 
heavy,  had  broken  his  neck. 

I  had  given  Dix  up  for  lost  and  was  in  a  very  low 
state  of  mind,  in  which  Jeams  sympathized  with  me 
deeply,  though  possibly  for  a  different  reason.  He  de 
clared  that  we  had  "lost  a  dog  as  could  win  a  ten-dollar 
bill  any  day  he  could  get  a  man  to  put  it  up." 

"Cap'n,  you  jes'  ought  to  'a'  seen  the  way  he  chawed 
up  that  bar-keep  Gallagin's  dog!  I  was  jes'  gittin' 
ready  to  rake  in  de  pile  when  dem  perlice  jumped  in  an* 
hammered  me.  We  done  los'  dat  dog,  Cap'n — you  an* 
I  got  to  go  to  work,"  he  added  with  a  rueful  look. 

259 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

It  did  look  so,  indeed.  A  few  days  later,  a  letter 
from  him  announced  that  he  had  gotten  a  place  and 
would  call  on  me  "before  long."  As  he  gave  no  ad 
dress,  I  assumed  that  his  "place"  was  in  some  bar 
room,  and  I  was  much  disturbed  about  him.  One  day, 
not  long  after,  Dix  dashed  into  my  office  and  nearly  ate 
me  up  in  his  joy.  I  really  did  not  know  until  he  came 
back  how  dear  he  was  to  me.  It  was  as  if  he  had  risen 
from  the  dead.  I  took  him  up  in  my  arms  and  hugged 
him  as  if  I  had  been  a  boy.  He  wore  a  fine  new  collar 
with  a  monogram  on  it  which  I  could  not  decipher. 
Next  day,  as  I  turned  into  the  alley  at  the  back  of  the 
building  on  which  opened  Mick  Raffity's  saloon,  with 
a  view  to  running  up  to  my  office  by  the  back  way, 
I  found  Dix  in  the  clutches  of  a  man  who  was  holding 
on  to  him,  notwithstanding  his  effort  to  escape.  He 
was  a  short,  stout  fellow  with  a  surly  face.  At  my  ap 
pearance  Dix  repeated  the  manoeuvres  by  which  he  had 
escaped  from  Jeams  the  day  I  left  him  behind  me  back 
East,  and  was  soon  at  my  side. 

I  strode  up  to  the  man. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  my  dog?"  I  demanded 
angrily. 

"He's  Mr.  McSheen's  dog." 

"He's  nothing  of  the  kind.  He's  my  dog  and  I 
brought  him  here  with  me." 

"I  guess  I  know  whose  dog  he  is,"  he  said,  insolently. 
"He  got  him  from  Dick  Gallagin." 

Gallagin!  That  was  the  name  of  the  man  who  had 
put  up  a  dog  to  fight  Dix.  A  light  began  to  break  on  me. 

260 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

"I  guess  you  don't  know  anything  of  the  kind,  unless 
you  know  he's  mine.  He  never  heard  of  Gallagin. 
I  brought  him  here  when  I  came  and  he  was  stolen  from 
me  not  long  ago  and  I've  just  got  him  back.  Shut  up, 
Dix!"  for  Dix  was  beginning  to  growl  and  was  ready 
for  war. 

The  fellow  mumbled  something  and  satisfied  me  that 
he  was  laboring  under  a  misapprehension,  so  I  explained 
a  little  further,  and  he  turned  and  went  into  Raffity's 
saloon.  Next  day,  however,  there  was  a  knock  at  my 
door,  and  before  I  could  call  to  the  person  to  come  in, 
McSheen  himself  stood  in  the  door.  The  knock  itself 
was  loud  and  insolent,  and  McSheen  was  glowering 
and  manifestly  ready  for  trouble. 

"I  hear  you  have  a  dog  here  that  belongs  to  me,"  he 
began. 

"Well,  you  have  heard  wrong — I  have  not." 

"Well — to  my  daughter.    It  is  the  same  thing." 

"No,  I  haven't— a  dog  that  belongs  to  your  daugh 
ter?" 

"Yes,  a  dog  that  belongs  to  my  daughter.  Where  is 
he?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I  wasn't  aware  that  you 
had  a  daughter,  and  I  have  no  dog  of  hers  or  any  one 
else — except  my  own." 

"Oh!    That  don't  go,  young  man — trot  him  out." 

At  this  moment,  Dix  walked  out  from  under  my  desk 
where  he  had  been  lying,  and  standing  beside  me,  gave 
a  low,  deep  growl. 

"Why,  that's  the  dog  now." 
261 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  was  angry,  but  I  was  quiet,  and  I  got  up  and  walked 
over  toward  him. 

"Tell  me  what  you  are  talking  about,"  I  said. 

"I'm  talking  about  that  dog.  My  daughter  owns 
him  and  I've  come  for  him." 

"Well,  you  can't  get  this  dog,"  I  said,  "because  he's 
mine." 

"Oh!  he  is,  is  he?" 

"Yes,  I  brought  him  here  with  me  when  I  came. 
I've  had  him  since  he  was  a  puppy." 

"Oh!  you  did!" 

"Yes,  I  did.  Go  back  there,  Dix,  and  lie  down!" 
for  Dix,  with  the  hair  up  on  his  broad  back  and  a 
wicked  look  in  his  eye,  was  growling  his  low,  ominous 
bass  that  meant  war.  At  the  word,  however,  he  went 
back  to  his  corner  and  lay  down,  his  eye  watchful  and 
uneasy.  His  prompt  obedience  seemed  to  stagger  Mr. 
McSheen,  for  he  condescended  to  make  his  first  attempt 
at  an  explanation. 

"Well,  a  man  brought  him  and  sold  him  to  my 
daughter  two  months  ago." 

"I  know — he  stole  him." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  that.  She  paid  for 
him  fair  and  square— $50.00,  and  she's  fond  of  the  dog, 
and  I  want  him." 

"I'm  sorry,  for  I  can't  part  with  him." 

"You'd  sell  him,  I  guess?" 

"No." 

"If  I  put  up  enough?" 

"No." 

262 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

"Say,  see  here."  He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 
"I  helped  you  out  about  that  nigger  of  yours,  and  I 
want  the  dog.  I'll  give  you  $50.00  for  the  dog — more 
than  he's  worth — and  that  makes  one  hundred  he's 
cost." 

"He's  not  for  sale— I  won't  sell  him." 

"Well,  I'll  make  it  a  hundred."  A  hundred  dollars! 
The  money  seemed  a  fortune  to  me;  but  I  could  not 
sell  Dix. 

"No.  I  tell  you  the  dog  is  not  for  sale.  I  won't  sell 
him." 

"What  is  your  price,  anyhow  ?"  demanded  McSheen. 
"  I  tell  you  I  want  the  dog.  I  promised  my  daughter  to 
get  the  dog  back." 

"Mr.  McSheen,  I  have  told  you  the  dog  is  not  for 
sale — I  will  not  sell  him  at  any  price." 

He  suddenly  flared  up. 

"Oh!  You  won't!  Well,  I'll  tell  you  that  I'll  have 
that  dog  and  you'll  sell  him  too." 

"I  will  not." 

"We'll  see.  You  think  you're  a  pretty  big  man,  but 
I'll  show  you  who's  bigger  in  this  town — you  or  Coll 
McSheen.  I  helped  you  once  and  you  haven't  sense 
enough  to  appreciate  it.  You  look  out  for  me,  young 
man."  He  turned  slowly  with  his  scowling  eye  on  me. 

"I  will." 

"You'd  better.  When  I  lay  my  hand  on  you,  you'll 
think  an  earthquake's  hit  you." 

"Well,  get  out  of  my  office  now,"  I  said. 

"Oh!    I'm  going  now,  but  wait." 
263 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

He  walked  out,  and  I  was  left  with  the  knowledge 
that  I  had  one  powerful  enemy. 

I  was  soon  to  know  Mr.  Collis  McSheen  better,  as  he 
was  also  to  know  me  better. 

A  few  days  after  this  I  was  walking  along  and  about 
to  enter  my  office  when  a  man  accosted  me  at  the  en 
trance  and  asked  if  I  could  tell  him  of  a  good  lawyer. 

I  told  him  I  was  one  myself,  though  I  had  the  grace 
to  add  that  there  were  many  more,  and  I  named  several 
of  the  leading  firms  in  the  city. 

"Well,  I  guess  you'll  do.  I  was  looking  for  you. 
You  are  the  one  she  sent  me  to,"  he  said  doubtfully, 
when  I  had  told  him  my  name.  He  was  a  weather- 
beaten  little  Scotchman,  very  poor  and  hard  up;  but 
there  was  something  in  his  air  that  dignified  him.  He 
had  a  definite  aim,  and  a  definite  wrong  to  be  righted. 
The  story  he  told  me  was  a  pitiful  one.  He  had  been 
in  this  country  several  years  and  had  a  place  in  a  loco 
motive-shop  somewhere  East,  and  so  long  as  he  had 
had  work,  had  saved  money.  But  they  "had  been 
ordered  out,"  he  said,  and  after  waiting  around  finding 
that  the  strike  had  failed,  he  had  come  on  here  and  had 
gotten  a  place  in  a  boiler-shop,  but  they  "had  been 
ordered  out"  again,  "just  as  I  got  my  wife  and  children 
on  and  was  getting  sort  of  fixed  up,"  he  added.  Then 
he  had  resigned  from  the  union  and  had  got  another 
place,  but  a  man  he  had  had  trouble  with  back  East  was 
"one  of  the  big  men  up  here  now,"  and  he  had  had  him 
turned  out  because  he  did  not  "belong  to  the  union." 
He  was  willing  to  join  the  union  now,  but  "Wringman 

264 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

had  had  him  turned  down."  Then  he  had  gotten  a 
place  as  a  driver.  But  he  had  been  ill  and  had  lost  his 
place,  and  since  then  he  had  not  been  able  to  get  work, 
"though  the  preacher  had  tried  to  help  him."  He  did 
not  seem  to  complain  of  this  loss  of  his  place. 

"The  wagon  had  to  run,"  he  said,  but  he  and  his 
wife,  too,  had  been  ill,  and  the  baby  had  died  and  the 
expenses  of  the  burial  had  been  "something."  He  ap 
peared  to  take  it  as  a  sort  of  ultimate  decree  not  to  be 
complained  of — only  stated.  He  mentioned  it  simply 
by  way  of  explanation,  and  spoke  as  if  it  were  a  mere 
matter  of  Fate.  And,  indeed,  to  the  poor,  sickness  often 
has  the  finality  of  Fate.  During  their  illness  they  had 
sold  nearly  all  their  furniture  to  live  on  and  pay  rent. 
Now  he  was  in  arrears;  his  wife  was  in  bed,  his  children 
sick,  and  his  landlord  had  levied  on  his  furniture  that 
remained  for  the  rent.  At  the  last  gasp  he  had  come 
to  see  a  lawyer. 

"I  know  I  owe  the  rent,"  he  said,  "but  the  beds  won't 
pay  it  and  the  loan  company's  got  all  the  rest." 

I  advised  him  that  the  property  levied  on  was  not 
subject  to  levy;  but  suggested  his  going  to  his  landlord 
and  laying  the  case  before  him. 

"If  he  has  any  bowels  of  compassion  whatever — " 
I  began,  but  he  interrupted  me. 

"That's  what  the  preacher  said."  But  his  landlord 
was  "the  Argand  Estate,"  he  added  in  a  hopeless  tone. 
He  only  knew  the  agent.  He  had  been  to  him  and  so 
had  the  preacher;  but  he  said  he  could  do  nothing — the 
rent  must  be  paid — "the  Argand  Estate  had  to  be  kept 

265 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

up,  or  it  couldn't  do  all  the  good  it  did " — so  he  was 
going  to  turn  them  out  next  day. 

He  had  been  to  one  or  two  lawyers,  he  said;  but  they 
wouldn't  take  the  case  against  the  Argand  Estate,  and 
then  the  lady  had  sent  him  to  me. 

"What  lady?" 

"The  lady  who  teaches  the  little  school— Miss  Leigh 
— she  teaches  my  Janet." 

McNeil's  name  had  at  first  made  no  impression  on 
me,  but  the  mention  of  Miss  Leigh,  "the  Argand  Estate," 
and  of  Wringman  brought  up  an  association.  "Mc 
Neil  ?— McNeil  ? "  I  said.  "  Did  you  have  five  children; 
and  did  your  wife  bring  them  on  here  some  months  ago 
— when  the  train  was  late,  one  day?" 

"Yes,  sorr;  that's  the  way  it  was." 

"Well,  I  will  keep  you  in  longer  than  to-morrow," 
I  said.  And  I  did.  But  Justice  is  too  expensive 
a  luxury  for  the  poor.  "Law  is  law,"  but  it  was 
made  by  landlords.  I  won  his  case  for  him  and  got 
his  furniture  released;  I  scored  the  Argand  agent, 
an  icy-faced  gentleman,  named  Gillis,  "of  high  char 
acter,"  as  the  Argand  counsel,  Mr.  McSheen,  in 
dignantly  declared,  and  incidentally  "the  Argand  Es 
tate,"  in  terms  which  made  me  more  reputation  than 
I  knew  of  at  the  time. 

The  case  was  a  reasonably  simple  one,  for  my  client 
was  entitled  to  a  poor  debtor's  exemption  of  a  few 
household  articles  of  primary  need,  and  he  had  not  half 
of  what  he  could  have  claimed  under  his  exemption.  It 
appeared,  however,  that  in  the  lease,  which  was  in  the 

266 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

regular  form  used  by  the  Argand  Estate,  all  exemptions 
were  waived,  and  also  that  it  was  the  regular  practice 
of  the  estate  to  enforce  the  waiver,  and  it  was  alleged  at 
the  trial  that  this  practice  had  always  been  sustained. 
It  was  the  fact  that  this  was  the  customary  lease  and 
that  a  principle  was  involved  which  brought  Mr. 
McSheen  into  the  case,  as  he  stated,  for  a  client  who 
was  the  largest  landlord  in  the  city.  And  it  was  the 
fact  that  Miss  Leigh  had  recommended  me  and  that 
McSheen  was  in  the  case  that  made  me  put  forth  all 
my  powers  on  it. 

On  the  stand  the  Argand  agent,  Gillis,  who,  it  ap 
peared,  had  begun  as  an  office-boy  in  the  office  of  Mr. 
Argand  and  had  then  become  his  private  secretary, 
from  which  he  had  risen  to  wealth  and  position,  a  fact 
I  had  learned  from  Kalender,  was  foolish  enough  to 
say  that  the  case  was  gotten  up  by  an  unknown  young 
lawyer  out  of  spite  against  the  Argand  Estate  and  that 
it  was  simply  an  instance  of  "the  eternal  attacks  on 
wealth";  that,  in  fact,  there  were  "only  two  sides,  the 
man  with  the  dress-coat  and  the  man  without." 

"You  began  poor.  When  did  you  change  your 
coat?"  I  asked. 

The  laugh  was  raised  on  him  and  he  got  angry. 
After  that  I  had  the  case.  I  was  unknown,  but  Gillis 
was  better  known  than  I  thought,  and  the  hardship  on 
my  client  was  too  plain.  I  led  him  on  into  a  tangle  of 
admissions,  tied  him  up  and  cross-examined  him  till 
the  perspiration  ran  off  his  icy  forehead.  I  got  the  jury 
and  won  the  case.  But,  notwithstanding  my  success, 

267 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

my  client  was  ruined.  He  was  put  out  of  the  house,  of 
course,  and  though  I  had  saved  for  him  his  beds,  every 
article  he  possessed  soon  went  for  food.  The  laws 
established  for  the  very  protection  of  the  poor  destroy 
their  credit  and  injure  them.  He  could  not  give 
security  for  rent,  and  but  for  a  fellow-workman  named 
Simms  taking  him  into  his  house,  and  the  kindness  of  the 
man  he  had  spoken  of  as  "the  preacher,"  his  children 
would  have  had  to  go  to  the  workhouse  or  a  worse  place. 

McNeil's  case  was  the  beginning  of  my  practice,  and 
in  a  little  while  I  found  myself  counsel  for  many  of  the 
drivers  in  our  section  of  the  city. 

Among  those  whom  this  case  brought  me  in  touch 
with  was  a  young  lawyer,  who,  a  little  later,  became  the 
attorney  for  the  government.  My  interest  in  him  was 
quickened  by  the  discovery  that  he  was  related  to  Mr. 
Leigh,  a  fact  he  mentioned  somewhat  irrelevantly.  He 
was  present  during  the  trial  and  on  its  conclusion 
came  up  and  congratulated  me  on  my  success  against 
what  he  termed  "the  most  powerful  combination  for 
evil  in  the  city.  They  bid  fair,"  he  said,  "  to  control  not 
only  the  city,  but  the  State,  and  are  the  more  dangerous 
because  they  are  entrenched  behind  the  support  of 
ignorant  honesty.  But  you  must  look  out  for  McSheen." 
As  he  stood  near  Coll  McSheen,  I  caught  the  latter's 
eye  fixed  on  us  with  that  curious  malevolent  expression 
which  cast  a  sort  of  mask  over  his  face. 

I  had  not  hunted  up  John  Marvel  after  learning  of 
his  presence  in  the  city,  partly  because  I  thought  he 

268 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

would  not  be  congenial  and  partly  because,  having  left 
several  affectionate  letters  from  him  unanswered  dur 
ing  my  prosperity,  I  was  ashamed  to  seek  him  now  in 
my  tribulation.  But  Fate  decided  for  me.  We  think  of 
our  absent  friend  and  lo!  a  letter  from  him  is  handed  to 
us  before  we  have  forgotten  the  circumstance.  We 
fancy  that  a  man  in  the  street  is  an  acquaintance ;  he 
comes  nearer  and  we  discover  our  mistake,  only  to  meet 
the  person  we  thought  of,  on  the  next  corner.  We  cross 
seas  and  run  into  our  next-door  neighbor  in  a  crowded 
thoroughfare.  In  fact,  the  instances  of  coincidence  are 
so  numerous  and  so  strange  that  one  can  hardly  repel 
the  inference  that  there  is  some  sort  of  law  governing 
them. 

I  indulged  in  this  reflection  when,  a  morning  or  two 
later,  as  I  was  recalling  my  carelessness  in  not  looking 
up  John  Marvel  and  Wolffert,  there  was  a  tap  on  the 
door  and  a  spare,  well-built,  dark-bearded  man,  neatly 
but  plainly  dressed,  walked  in.  His  hat  shaded  his 
face,  and  partly  concealed  his  eyes;  but  as  he  smiled 
and  spoke,  I  recognized  him. 

"Wolffert!  I  was  just  thinking  of  you." 
He  looked  much  older  than  I  expected,  and  than, 
I  thought,  I  myself  looked;  his  face  was  lined  and  his 
hair  had  a  few  strands  of  silver  at  the  temples;  his  eyes 
were  deeper  than  ever,  and  he  appeared  rather  worn. 
But  he  had  developed  surprisingly  since  we  had  parted 
at  College.  His  manner  was  full  of  energy.  In  fact, 
as  he  talked  he  almost  blazed  at  times.  And  I  was  con 
scious  of  a  strange  kind  of  power  in  him  that  attracted 

269 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  carried  me  along  with  him,  even  to  the  dulling  of 
my  judgment.  He  had  been  away,  he  said,  and  had 
only  just  returned,  and  had  heard  of  my  success  in 
"defeating  the  Argand  Estate  Combination";  and 
he  had  come  to  congratulate  me.  It  was  the  first 
victory  any  one  had  ever  been  able  to  win  against 
them. 

"But  I  did  not  defeat  any  combination,"  I  said. 
"I  only  defeated  Collis  McSheen  in  his  effort  to  take  my 
client's  bed  and  turn  him  and  his  children  out  in  the 
street  without  a  blanket." 

"There  is  the  Combination,  all  the  same,"  he  as 
serted.  "They  have  the  Law  and  the  Gospel  both  in 
the  combine.  They  make  and  administer  the  one  and 
then  preach  the  other  to  bind  on  men's  shoulders  bur 
dens,  grievous  to  be  borne,  that  they  themselves  do  not 
touch  with  so  much  as  a  finger." 

"But  I  don't  understand,"  I  persisted;  for  I  saw 
that  he  labored  under  much  suppressed  feeling,  and  I 
wondered  what  had  embittered  him.  "Collis  McSheen 
I  know,  for  I  have  had  some  experience  of  him;  and 
Gillis,  the  agent,  was  a  cool  proposition ;  but  the  Ar 
gand  Estate  ?  Why,  McSheen  strung  out  a  list  of  chari 
ties  that  the  Argand  Estate  supported  that  staggered 
me.  I  only  could  not  understand  why  they  support 
a  man  like  McSheen." 

"The  Argand  Estate  support  charities!  Yes,  a  score 
of  them — all  listed — and  every  dollar  is  blood,  wrung 
from  the  hearts  and  souls  of  others— and  there  are  many 
Argands." 

270 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  For  he  was  showing  a  sudden 
passion  which  I  did  not  understand.  He  swept  on 
without  heeding  my  question. 

"Why,  their  houses  are  the  worst  in  the  city;  their 
tenements  the  poorest  for  the  rent  charged;  their 
manufactories  the  greatest  sweatshops;  their  corporate 
enterprises  all  at  the  cost  of  the  working-class,  and,  to 
crown  it  all,  they  sustain  and  support  the  worst  villains 
in  this  city,  who  live  on  the  bodies  and  souls  of  the 
ignorant  and  the  wretched." 

"Whom  do  you  mean?    I  don't  understand." 

"Why,  do  you  suppose  the  Coll  McSheens  and 
Gillises  and  their  kind  could  subsist  unless  the  Argands 
and  Capons  of  the  Time  supported  them  ?  They  have 
grown  so  bold  now  that  they  threaten  even  their  social 
superiors — they  must  rule  alone!  They  destroy  all 
who  do  not  surrender  at  discretion." 

"Who?  How?"  I  asked,  as  he  paused,  evidently 
following  a  train  of  reflection,  while  his  eyes  glowed. 

"Why,  ah!  even  a  man  like— Mr.  Leigh,  who 
though  the  product  of  an  erroneous  system  is,  at  least, 
a  broad  man  and  a  just  one." 

"Is  he?  I  do  not  know  him.  Tell  me  about  him." 
For  I  was  suddenly  interested. 

Then  he  told  me  of  Mr.  Leigh  and  his  work  in  trying 
to  secure  better  service  for  the  public,  better  tenements 
— better  conditions  generally. 

"But  they  have  defeated  him,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"They  turned  him  out  of  his  directorship— or,  at 
least,  he  got  out — and  are  fighting  him  at  every  turn. 

271 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

They  will  destroy  him,  if  possible.  They  almost  have 
him  beat  now.  Well,  it  is  nothing  to  me,"  he  added 
with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  and  a  sort  of  denial  of 
the  self-made  suggestion.  "He  is  but  an  individual 
victim  of  a  rotten  system  that  must  go." 

My  mind  had  drifted  to  the  conference  which  I  had 
witnessed  in  McSheen's  office  not  long  before,  when 
suddenly  Wolffert  said, 

"Your  old  friend,  Peck,  appears  to  have  gotten 
up.  I  judge  he  is  very  successful — after  his  kind." 

"Yes,  it  would  seem  so,"  I  said  dryly,  with  a  sudden 
fleeting  across  my  mind  of  a  scene  from  the  past,  in 
which  not  Peck  figured,  but  one  who  now  bore  his 
name;  and  a  slightly  acrid  taste  came  in  my  mouth 
at  the  recollection.  "Well,  up  or  down,  he  is  the 
same,"  I  added. 

"He  is  a  serpent,"  said  Wolffert.  "You  remember 
how  he  tried  to  make  us  kill  each  other?" 

"Yes,  and  what  a  fool  I  made  of  myself." 

"No,  no.  He  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  He  used  to 
come  and  tell  me  all  the  things  you  said  and — didn't 
say.  He  made  a  sore  spot  in  my  heart  and  kept  it 
raw.  He's  still  the  same — reptile." 

"Have  you  seen  him?"  I  asked.  He  leaned  back 
and  rested  his  eyes  on  me. 

"Yes,  he  took  the  trouble  to  hunt  me  up  a  day  or 
two  ago,  and  for  some  reason  went  over  the  whole 
thing  again.  What's  McSheen  to  him  ?" 

"I  shall  break  his  neck  some  day,  yet,"  I  observed 
quietly. 

272 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DIX 

"You  know  I  write,"  he  said  explanatorily.  "He 
wanted  me  to  write  something  about  you." 

"About  me?" 

"Yes." 

"What  a  deep-dyed  scoundrel  he  is!" 

"Yes,  he  wanted  to  enlist  me  on  the  McSheen  side, 
but — "  his  eyes  twinkled.  "Where  do  you  go  to 
church?"  he  suddenly  asked  me. 

I  told  him,  and  I  thought  he  smiled  possibly  at  what 
I  feared  was  a  little  flush  in  my  face. 

"To  'St.  Mammon's '!  Why  don't  you  go  to  hear 
John  Marvel?  He  is  the  real  thing." 

"  John  Marvel  ?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"Not  far  from  where  you  say  you  live.  He  preaches 
out  there — to  the  poor." 

"  In  a  chapel  ? "  I  inquired. 

"Everywhere  where  he  is,"  said  Wolff ert,  quietly. 

"  What  sort  of  a  preacher  is  he  ? " 

"The  best  on  earth,  not  with  words,  but  with  deeds. 
His  life  is  his  best  sermon." 

I  told  him  frankly  why  I  had  not  gone,  though  I  was 
ashamed,  for  we  had  grown  confidential  in  our  talk. 
But  Wolff  ert  assured  me  that  John  Marvel  would  never 
think  of  anything  but  the  happiness  of  meeting  me  again. 

"He  is  a  friend  whom  God  gives  to  a  man  once  in 
his  lifetime,"  he  said,  as  he  took  his  leave.  "Cherish 
such  an  one.  His  love  surpasseth  the  love  of  women." 

"Has  he  improved?"  I  asked. 

A  little  spark  flashed  in  Wolffert's  eyes.  "He  did 
not  need  to  improve.  He  has  only  ripened.  God  en- 

273 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

dowed  him  with  a  heart  big  enough  to  embrace  all 
humanity — except — "  he  added,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  "  the  Jew." 

"I  do  not  believe  that." 

"By  the  way,  I  have  a  friend  who  tells  me  she  has 
met  you.  Your  dog  appears  to  have  made  quite  an 
impression  on  her." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Miss  Leigh,  the  daughter  of  the  gentleman  we  were 
talking  about." 

"Oh!  yes— a  fine  girl— I  think,"  I  said  with  a  casual 
air— to  conceal  my  real  interest. 

"I  should  say  so!  She  is  the  real  thing,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "She  told  me  you  put  out  her  fire  for  her. 
She  teaches  the  waifs  and  strays." 

"Put  out  her  fire!  Was  ever  such  ingratitude!  I 
made  her  fire  for  her.  Tell  me  what  she  said." 

But  Wolffert  was  gone,  with  a  smile  on  his  face. 


274 


XXII 

THE  PREACHER 

So,  "the  preacher"  whom  my  client,  McNeil,  and 
my  poor  neighbors  talked  of  was  no  other  than  John 
Marvel !  I  felt  that  he  must  have  changed  a  good  deal 
since  I  knew  him.  But  decency,  as  well  as  curiosity, 
required  that  I  go  to  see  him.  Accordingly,  although 
I  had  of  late  gone  to  church  only  to  see  a  certain  wor 
shipper,  I  one  evening  sauntered  over  toward  the  little 
rusty-looking  chapel,  where  I  understood  he  preached. 
To  my  surprise,  the  chapel  was  quite  full,  and%to  my 
far  greater  surprise,  old  John  proved  to  be  an  inspiring 
preacher.  Like  Wolffert,  he  had  developed.  When  he 
came  to  preach,  though  the  sermon  was  mainly  hortatory 
and  what  I  should  have  expected  of  him,  his  earnestness 
and  directness  held  his  congregation,  and  I  must  say  he 
was  far  more  impressive  than  I  should  have  imagined 
he  could  be.  His  sermon  was  as  far  from  the  cut- 
and-dried  discourse  I  was  used  to  hear,  as  life  is  from 
death. 

He  spoke  without  notes  and  directly  from  his  heart. 
His  text,  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
heavy-laden."  He  made  it  out  to  be  a  positive  promise 
of  rest  for  the  weary  in  body,  mind  and  soul,  given  by 
One  not  only  able  to  help,  but  longing  to  do  so:  a 
pitying  Father,  who  saw  His  tired  children  struggling 

275 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

under  their  burdens  and  yearned  toward  them.  The 
great  Physician  was  reaching  out  His  hands  to  them, 
longing  to  heal  them,  if  they  but  received  Him;  if  they 
but  followed  Him.  To  be  converted  meant  to  turn  from 
what  they  knew  to  be  evil  and  try  to  live  as  they  felt  He 
lived.  He  had  come  to  bring  the  gospel  to  the  poor. 
He  had  been  poor — as  poor  as  they.  He  knew  their 
sorrows  and  privations  and  weakness;  and  their  sins, 
however  black  they  were.  All  He  asked  was  that  they 
trust  Him,  and  try  to  follow  Him,  forgetting  self  and 
helping  others.  Do  not  be  afraid  to  trust  Him,  or  de 
spair  if  He  does  not  make  Himself  known  to  you.  He 
is  with  you  even  until  the  end — and  often  as  much  when 
you  do  not  feel  it  as  when  you  do. 

God  appeared  very  real  to  him,  and  also  to  his  hear 
ers,  who  hung  on  his  words  as  simple  as  they  were.  I 
felt  a  seriousness  which  I  had  long  been  a  stranger  to. 
He  appeared  to  be  talking  to  me,  and  I  set  it  down  to 
tenderness  for  old  John  Marvel  himself,  rather  than 
to  his  subject. 

When  the  service  was  over,  he  came  down  the  aisle 
speaking  to  the  congregation,  many  of  whom  he  ap 
peared  to  know  by  name,  and  whose  concerns  he  also 
knew  intimately.  And  as  the  children  crowded  around 
him  with  smiles  of  friendliness,  I  thought  of  the  village 
preacher  with  the  children  following,  "with  endearing 
wile." 

His  words  were  always  words  of  cheer. 

"  Ah !  Mrs.  Tarns !   Your  boy  got  his  place,  didn't  he  ? 

"Mrs.  Williams,  your  little  girl  is  all  right  again  ? 
276 


THE  PREACHER 

"Well,  Mrs.  McNeil"  (to  a  rusty,  thinly  clad  woman 
who  sat  with  her  back  to  me),  "so  your  husband  won  his 
case,  after  all  ?  His  lawyer  was  an  old  friend  of  mine." 

I  had  sat  far  back,  as  the  church  was  full  when  I 
entered,  and  was  waiting  for  him  to  get  through  with 
his  congregation  before  making  myself  known  to  him; 
so,  though  he  was  now  quite  close  to  me,  he  did  not 
recognize  me  until  I  spoke  to  him.  As  I  mentioned  his 
name,  he  turned. 

"Why,  Henry  Glave!"  Then  he  took  me  in  his 
arms,  bodily,  and  lifting  me  from  the  ground  hugged 
me  there  before  the  entire  remnant  of  his  congregation 
who  yet  remained  in  the  church.  I  never  had  a  warmer 
greeting.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  the  prodigal  son,  and,  al 
though  it  was  embarrassing,  I  was  conscious  that  in 
stant  that  he  had  lifted  me  out  of  my  old  life  and  taken 
me  to  his  heart.  It  was  as  if  he  had  set  me  down  on  a 
higher  level  in  a  better  and  purer  atmosphere. 

I  went  home  with  him  that  night  to  his  little  room  in 
a  house  even  smaller  and  poorer  than  that  in  which  I 
had  my  room — where  he  lived,  as  I  found,  because  he 
knew  the  pittance  he  paid  was  a  boon  to  the  poor 
family  who  sublet  the  room.  But  as  small  and  incon 
venient  as  the  room  was,  I  felt  that  it  was  a  haven  for  a 
tired  and  storm-tossed  spirit,  and  the  few  books  it  con 
tained  gave  it  an  air  of  being  a  home.  Before  I  left  it 
I  was  conscious  that  I  was  in  a  new  phase  of  life. 
Something  made  me  feel  that  John  Marvel's  room  was 
not  only  a  home  but  a  sanctuary. 

We  sat  late  that  night  and  talked  of  many  things,  and 
277 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

though  old  John  had  not  improved  in  quickness,  I  was 
surprised,  when  I  came  to  think  over  our  evening,  how 
much  he  knew  of  people— poor  people.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  he  lived  nearer  to  them  than  possibly  any  one 
I  had  known.  He  had  organized  a  sort  of  settlement 
among  them,  and  his  chief  helpers  were  Wolff ert  and  a 
Catholic  priest,  a  dear  devoted  old  fellow,  Father  Tapp, 
whom  I  afterward  met,  who  always  spoke  of  John 
Marvel  as  his  "Heretick  brother,"  and  never  without 
a  smile  in  his  eye.  Here  he  helped  the  poor,  the  sick  and 
the  outcast;  got  places  for  those  out  of  work,  and  en 
couraged  those  who  were  despairing.  I  discovered  that 
he  was  really  trying  to  put  into  practical  execution  the 
lessons  he  taught  out  of  the  Bible,  and  though  I  told 
him  he  would  soon  come  to  grief  doing  that,  he  said  he 
thought  the  command  was  too  plain  to  be  disobeyed. 
Did  I  suppose  that  the  Master  would  have  commanded, 
"Love  your  enemies,"  and,  "Turn  the  other  cheek,"  if 
He  had  not  meant  it  ?  "  Well,"  I  said, "  the  Church  goes 
for  teaching  that  theoretically,  I  admit;  but  it  does  not 
do  it  in  practice — I  know  of  no  body  of  men  more  ready 
to  assert  their  rights,  and  which  strikes  back  with  more 
vehemence  when  assailed." 

"  Ah !  but  that  is  the  weakness  of  poor,  fallible,  weak 
man,"  he  sighed.  "'We  know  the  good,  but  oft  the  ill 
pursue ;'  if  we  could  but  live  up  to  our  ideals,  then, 
indeed,  we  might  have  Christ's  kingdom  to  come. 
Suppose  we  could  get  all  to  obey  the  injunction,  'Sell 
all  thou  hast  and  give  to  the  poor/  what  a  world  we 
should  have!" 

278 


THE  PREACHER 

"It  would  be  filled  with  paupers  and  dead  beats," 
I  declared,  scouting  the  idea.  "Enterprise  would 
cease,  a  dead  stagnation  would  result,  and  the  indus 
trious  and  thrifty  would  be  the  prey  of  the  worthless 
and  the  idle." 

"Not  if  all  men  could  attain  the  ideal." 

"No,  but  there  is  just  the  rub;  they  cannot— you 
leave  out  human  nature.  Selfishness  is  ingrained  in 
man — it  has  been  the  mainspring  which  has  driven  the 
race  to  advance." 

He  shook  his  head.  "The  grace  of  God  is  sufficient 
for  all,"  he  said.  "The  mother-love  has  some  part  in 
the  advance  made,  and  that  is  not  selfish.  Thank  God ! 
There  are  many  rich  noble  men  and  women,  who  are  not 
selfish  and  who  do  God's  service  on  earth  out  of  sheer 
loving  kindness,  spend  their  money  and  themselves  in 
His  work." 

"No  doubt,  but  here  in  this  city? " 

"Yes,  in  this  city — thousands  of  them.  Why,  where 
do  we  get  the  money  from  to  run  our  place  with  ?" 

"From  the  Argand  Estate?"  I  hazarded. 

"Yes,  even  from  the  Argand  Estate  we  get  some. 
But  men  like  Mr.  Leigh  are  those  who  support  us  and 
women  like — ah —  But  beyond  all  those  who  give 
money  are  those  who  give  themselves.  They  bring  the 
spiritual  blessing  of  their  presence,  and  teach  the  true 
lesson  of  divine  sympathy.  One  such  person  is  worth 
many  who  only  give  money." 

"Who,  for  instance?" 

"Why — ah — Miss  Leigh — for  example." 
279 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  could  scarcely  believe  my  senses.  Miss  Leigh! 
"Do  you  know  Miss  Leigh?  What  Miss  Leigh  are 
you  speaking  of?"  I  hurriedly  asked  to  cover  my  own 
confusion,  for  John  had  grown  red  and  I  knew  in 
stinctively  that  it  was  she — there  could  be  but  one. 

"Miss  Eleanor  Leigh — yes,  I  know  her — she — ah — 
teaches  in  my  Sunday-school."  John's  old  trick  of 
stammering  had  come  back. 

Teaching  in  his  Sunday-school!  And  I  not  know 
her!  That  instant  John  secured  a  new  teacher.  But 
he  went  on  quickly,  not  divining  the  joy  in  my  heart, 
or  the  pious  resolve  I  was  forming.  "She  is  one  of 
the  good  people  who  holds  her  wealth  as  a  trust  for  the 
Master's  poor — she  comes  over  every  Sunday  afternoon 
all  the  way  from  her  home  and  teaches  a  class." 

Next  Sunday  at  three  P.  M.  a  hypocrite  of  my  name 
sat  on  a  bench  in  John's  little  church,  pretending  to 
teach  nine  little  ruffians  whose  only  concern  was  their 
shoes  which  they  continually  measured  with  each  other, 
while  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  watched  a  slender 
figure  bending,  with  what  I  thought  wonderful  grace, 
over  a  pew  full  of  little  girls  on  the  other  side  of  the 
church  intent  on  their  curls  or  bangs. 

The  lesson  brought  in  that  bald-headed  and  some 
what  unfeeling  prophet,  who  called  forth  from  the 
wood  the  savage  and  voracious  she-bears  to  devour  the 
crowd  of  children  who  ran  after  him  and  made  rude 
observations  on  his  personal  appearance,  and  before  I 
was  through,  my  sympathies  had  largely  shifted  from 
the  unfortunate  youngsters  to  the  victim  of  their  annoy- 

280 


THE  PREACHER 

ance.  Still  I  made  up  my  mind  to  stick  if  John  would 
let  me,  and  the  slim  and  flower-like  teacher  of  the 
fidgety  class  across  the  aisle  continued  to  attend. 

I  dismissed  my  class  rather  abruptly,  I  fear,  on  ob 
serving  that  the  little  girls  had  suddenly  risen  and  were 
following  their  teacher  toward  the  door  with  almost  as 
much  eagerness  as  I  felt  to  escort  her.  When  I  dis 
covered  that  she  was  only  going  to  unite  them  with 
another  class,  it  was  too  late  to  recall  my  pupils,  who  at 
the  first  opportunity  had  made  for  the  door,  almost  as 
swiftly  as  though  the  she-bears  were  after  them. 

When  the  Sunday-school  broke  up,  the  young  lady 
waited  around,  and  I  took  pains  to  go  up  and  speak  to 
her,  and  received  a  very  gracious  smile  and  word  of 
appreciation  at  my  efforts  with  the  "  Botany  Bay  Class," 
as  my  boys  were  termed,  which  quite  rewarded  me  for 
my  work.  Her  eyes,  with  their  pleasant  light,  lit  up 
the  whole  place  for  me.  Just  then  John  Marvel  came 
out — and  it  was  the  first  time  I  ever  regretted  his  appear 
ance.  The  smile  she  gave  him  and  the  cordiality  of 
her  manner  filled  me  with  sudden  and  unreasoning 
jealousy.  It  was  evident  that  she  had  waited  to  see 
him,  and  old  John's  face  bore  a  look  of  such  happiness 
that  he  almost  looked  handsome.  As  for  her — as  I 
came  out  I  felt  quite  dazed.  On  the  street  whom  should 
I  meet  but  Wolffert— "  simply  passing  by,"  but  when 
I  asked  him  to  take  a  walk,  he  muttered  something 
about  having  "to  see  John."  He  was  well  dressed  and 
looked  unusually  handsome.  Yet  when  John  appeared, 
still  talking  earnestly  with  Miss  Leigh,  I  instantly  saw 

281 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

by  his  face  and  the  direction  of  his  eye  that  the  John 
he  wanted  to  see  wore  an  adorable  hat  and  a  quiet,  but 
dainty  tailor-made  suit  and  had  a  face  as  lovely  as  a  rose. 

I  was  in  such  a  humor  that  I  flung  off  down  the  street, 
swearing  that  every  man  I  knew  was  in  love  with  her, 
and  it  was  not  until  ten  o'clock  that  night,  when  I  went 
to  John's — whither  I  was  drawn  by  an  irresistible  de 
sire  to  talk  about  her  and  find  out  how  matters  stood 
between  them — and  he  told  me  that  she  had  asked 
where  I  had  gone,  that  I  got  over  my  temper. 

"Why,  what  made  you  run  off  so?"  he  inquired. 

"  When  ?  "     I  knew  perfectly  what  he  meant. 

"Immediately  after  we  let  out." 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  was  through,  and  besides  I 
thought  you  had  pleasanter  company."  I  said  this 
with  my  eyes  on  his  face  to  see  him  suddenly  redden. 
But  he  answered  with  a  naturalness  which  put  me  to 
shame. 

"Yes,  Miss  Leigh  has  been  trying  to  get  a  place  for  a 
poor  man — your  client  by  the  way — and  then  she  was 
talking  to  me  about  a  little  entertainment  for  the  chil 
dren  and  their  parents,  too.  She  is  always  trying  to  do 
something  for  them.  And  she  was  sorry  not  to  get  a 
chance  to  speak  further  to  you.  She  said  you  had 
helped  her  about  her  fire  and  she  had  never  thanked  you." 

It  is  surprising  how  quickly  the  sun  can  burst  from 
the  thickest  clouds  for  a  man  in  love.  I  suddenly  won 
dered  that  Miss  Leigh  among  her  good  works  did  not 
continually  ask  about  me  and  send  me  messages.  It 
made  me  so  happy. 

282 


THE  PREACHER 

"What  became  of  Wolff ert?"  I  inquired. 

"I  think  he  walked  home  with  her.  He  had  some 
thing  to  talk  with  her  about.  They  are  great  friends, 
you  know.  She  helps  Wolff  ert  in  his  work." 

"Bang!"  went  the  clouds  together  again  like  a  clap 
of  thunder.  The  idea  of  Wolffert  being  in  love  with 
her!  I  could  tolerate  the  thought  of  John  Marvel  being 
so,  but  Wolffert  was  such  a  handsome  fellow,  so  clever 
and  attractive,  and  so  full  of  enthusiasm.  It  would 
never  do.  Why,  she  might  easily  enough  imagine 
herself  in  love  with  him.  I  suddenly  wondered  if 
Wolffert  was  not  the  cause  of  her  interest  in  settlement 
work. 

"Wolffert  is  very  fond  of  her — I  found  him  hanging 
around  the  door  as  we  came  out,"  I  hazarded. 

"Oh!  yes,  they  are  great  friends.  He  is  an  inspira 
tion  to  her,  she  says — and  Wolffert  thinks  she  is  an 
angel — as  she  is.  Why,  if  you  knew  the  things  she  does 
and  makes  others  do!" 

If  John  Marvel  had  known  with  what  a  red-hot  iron 
he  was  searing  my  heart,  he  would  have  desisted;  but 
good,  blind  soul,  he  was  on  his  hobby  and  he  went  on 
at  full  speed,  telling  me  what  good  deeds  she  had  per 
formed — how  she  had  fetched  him  to  the  city;  and  how 
she  had  built  up  his  church  for  him — had  started  and 
run  his  school  for  the  waifs — coming  over  from  her 
beautiful  home  in  all  weathers  to  make  up  the  fire  her 
self  and  have  the  place  warm  and  comfortable  for  the 
little  ones — how  she  looked  after  the  sick — organized 
charities  for  them  and  spent  her  money  in  their  behalf. 

283 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"They  call  her  the  angel  of  the  lost  children,"  he  said, 
"and  well  they  may." 

"Who  does?"  I  asked  suspiciously,  recalling  the 
title.  "  Wolffert,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Why,  all  my  people— I  think  Wolffert  first  chris 
tened  her  so  and  they  have  taken  it  up." 

"Confound  Wolffert!"  I  thought.  "Wolffert's  in 
love  with  her,"  I  said. 

"Wolffert— in  love  with  her!  Why!"  I  saw  that  I 
had  suggested  the  idea  for  the  first  time — but  it  had 
found  a  lodgment  in  his  mind.  "Oh!  no,  he  is  not,"  he 
declared,  but  rather  arguing  than  asserting  it.  "They 
are  only  great  friends — they  work  together  and  have 
many  things  in  common — Wolffert  will  never  marry — 
he  is  wedded  to  his  ideal." 

"And  her  name  is  Eleanor  Leigh — only  he  is  not 
wedded  to  her  yet."  And  I  added  in  my  heart,  "He 
will  never  be  if  I  can  beat  him." 

"Yes — certainly,  in  a  way — as  she  is  mine,"  said 
John,  still  thinking. 

"And  you  are  too!"  I  said. 

"I?  In  love  with—?"  He  did  not  mention  her 
name.  It  may  have  been  that  he  felt  it  too  sacred. 
But  he  gave  a  sort  of  gasp.  "The  glow-worm  may 
worship  the  star,  but  it  is  at  a  long  distance,  and  it  knows 
that  it  can  never  reach  it." 

I  hope  it  may  be  forgiven  to  lovers  not  to  have  been 
frank  with  their  rivals.  His  humility  touched  me.  I 
wanted  to  tell  John  that  I  thought  he  might  stand  a 
chance,  but  I  was  not  unselfish  enough,  as  he  would 

284 


THE  PREACHER 

have  been  in  my  place.  All  I  was  brave  enough  to  do 
was  to  say,  "John,  you  are  far  above  the  glow-worm; 
you  give  far  more  light  than  you  know,  and  the  star 
knows  and  appreciates  it." 


285 


XXIII 

MRS.  ARGAN13 

I  now  began  to  plan  how  I  was  to  meet  my  young 
lady  on  neutral  and  equal  ground,  for  meet  her  I  must. 
When  I  first  met  her  I  could  have  boldly  introduced 
myself,  for  all  my  smutted  face;  now  Love  made  me 
modest.  When  I  met  her,  I  scarcely  dared  to  look  into 
her  eyes;  I  began  to  think  of  the  letters  of  introduction 
I  had,  which  I  had  thrown  into  my  trunk.  One  of 
them  was  to  Mrs.  Argand,  a  lady  whom  I  assumed  to 
be  the  same  lofty  person  I  had  seen  mentioned  in  the 
papers  as  one  of  the  leaders  among  the  fashionable  set, 
and  also  as  one  of  the  leaders  in  all  public  charitable 
work.  It  had,  indeed,  occurred  to  me  to  associate  her 
vaguely,  first  with  the  private-car  episode,  and  then 
with  my  poor  client's  landlord,  the  Argand  Estate;  but 
the  "Argand  Estate"  appeared  a  wholly  impersonal 
machine  of  steel;  her  reputation  in  the  newspapers  for 
charity  disposed  of  this  idea.  Indeed,  Wolffert  had 
said  that  there  were  many  Mrs.  Argands  in  the  city, 
and  there  were  many  Argands  in  the  directory. 

I  presented  my  letter  and  was  invited  to  call  on  a 
certain  day,  some  two  weeks  later.  She  lived  in  great 
style,  in  a  ponderous  mansion  of  unhewn  stone  piled 
up  with  prison-like  massiveness,  surrounded  by  exten- 

286 


MRS.  ARGAND 

sive  grounds,  filled  with  carefully  tended,  formal  flower 
beds.  A  ponderous  servant  asked  my  name  and,  with 
eyes  on  vacancy,  announced  me  loudly  as  "Mr.  Glaze." 
The  hostess  was  well  surrounded  by  callers.  I  recog 
nized  her  the  instant  I  entered  as  the  large  lady  of  the 
private  car.  Both  she  and  her  jewels  were  the  same. 
Also  I  knew  instantly  that  she  was  the  "Argand  Es 
tate,"  which  I  had  scored  so,  and  I  was  grateful  to  the 
servant  for  miscalling  my  name.  Her  sumptuous 
drawing-rooms  were  sprinkled  with  a  handsomely 
dressed  company  who  sailed  in,  smiled  around,  sat  on 
the  edge  of  chairs,  chattered  for  some  moments,  grew 
pensive,  uttered  a  few  sentences,  spread  their  wings,  and 
sailed  out  with  monotonous  regularity  and  the  solemn 
air  of  a  duty  performed.  There  was  no  conversation 
with  the  hostess — only,  as  I  observed  from  my  coign 
of  vantage,  an  exchange  of  compliments  and  flattery. 

Most  of  the  callers  appeared  either  to  be  very  inti 
mate  or  not  to  know  each  other  at  all,  and  when  they 
could  not  gain  the  ear  of  the  hostess,  they  simply  sat 
stiffly  in  their  chairs  and  looked  straight  before  them, 
or  walked  around  and  inspected  the  splendid  bric-a-brac 
with  something  of  an  air  of  appraisement. 

I  became  so  interested  that,  being  unobserved  my 
self,  I  stayed  some  time  observing  them.  I  also  had 
a  vague  hope  that  possibly  Miss  Leigh  might  appear. 
It  was  owing  to  my  long  visit  that  I  was  finally  honored 
with  my  hostess's  attention.  As  she  had  taken  no  notice 
of  me  on  my  first  entrance  beyond  a  formal  bow  and  an 
indifferent  hand-shake,  I  had  moved  on  and  a  moment 

287 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

later  had  gotten  into  conversation  with  a  young  girl — 
large,  plump,  and  apparently,  like  myself,  ready  to  talk 
to  any  one  who  came  near,  as  she  promptly  opened  a 
conversation  with  me,  a  step  which,  I  may  say,  I  was 
more  than  ready  to  take  advantage  of.  I  recognized 
her  as  the  girl  who  had  been  talking  to  Count  Pushkin 
the  evening  of  the  concert,  and  whom  I  had  seen  him 
leave  for  Miss  Leigh.  We  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  a 
conversation  in  which  I  did  the  questioning  and  she  did 
most  of  the  talking  and  she  threw  considerable  light  on 
a  number  of  the  visitors,  whom  she  divided  into  various 
classes  characterized  in  a  vernacular  of  her  own.  Some 
were  "frumps,"  some  were  "stiffs,"  and  some  were 
"old  soaks" — the  latter  appellation,  as  I  gathered,  not 
implying  any  special  addiction  to  spirituous  liquors  on 
the  part  of  those  so  characterized,  but  only  indicating 
the  young  woman's  gauge  of  their  merits.  Still,  she 
was  amusing  enough  for  a  time,  and  appeared  to  be 
always  ready  to  "die  laughing"  over  everything.  Like 
myself,  she  seemed  rather  inclined  to  keep  her  eye  on 
the  door,  where  I  was  watching  for  the  possible  appear 
ance  of  the  one  who  had  brought  me  there.  I  was  re 
called  from  a  slight  straying  of  my  mind  from  some 
story  she  was  telling,  by  her  saying: 

"You're  a  lawyer,  aren't  you  ?" 

Feeling  rather  flattered  at  the  suggestion,  and  think 
ing  that  I  must  have  struck  her  as  intellectual-look 
ing,  I  admitted  the  fact  and  asked  her  why  she 
thought  so. 

"Oh!  because  they're  the  only  people  who  have 
288 


MRS.  ARGAND 

nothing  to  do  and  attend  teas — young  lawyers.  I  have 
seen  you  walking  on  the  street  when  I  was  driving  by." 

"Well,  you  know  you  looked  busier  than  I;  but  you 
weren't  really,"  I  said.  I  was  a  little  taken  aback  by 
her  asking  if  I  knew  Count  Pushkin. 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  said.    "I  know  him." 

This  manifestly  made  an  impression. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him  ?" 

"What  do  I  think  of  him  ?  When  I  know  you  a  little 
better,  I  will  tell  you,"  I  said.  "  Doesn't  he  attend  teas  ?  " 

"Oh!  yes,  but  then  he  is — he  is  something — a  noble 
man,  you  know." 

"Do  I?" 

"Yes.  Didn't  you  hear  how  last  spring  he  stopped 
a  runaway  and  was  knocked  down  and  dragged  ever 
so  far?  Why,  his  face  was  all  bruises." 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  recollection  of 
Pushkin. 

"I  saw  that." 

"Oh!  did  you?  Do  tell  me  about  it.  It  was  fine, 
wasn't  it?  Don't  you  think  he's  lovely?" 

"Get  him  to  tell  you  about  it."  I  was  relieved  at 
that  moment  at  a  chance  to  escape  her.  I  saw  my 
hostess  talking  to  a  middle-aged,  overdressed,  but  hand 
some  woman  whose  face  somehow  haunted  me  with  a 
reminiscence  which  I  could  not  quite  place,  and  as  I 
happened  to  look  in  a  mirror  I  saw  they  were  talking 
of  me,  so  I  bowed  to  my  young  lady  and  moved  on. 
The  visitor  asked  who  I  was,  and  I  could  see  the  host 
ess  reply  that  she  had  not  the  slightest  idea.  She  put 

289 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

up  her  lorgnon  and  scrutinized  me  attentively  and  then 
shook  her  head  again.     I  walked  over  to  where  they  sat. 

"We  were  just  saying,  Mr. — ah — ah — Laze,  that  one 
who  undertakes  to  do  a  little  for  one's  fellow-beings  finds 
very  little  encouragement."  She  spoke  almost  plain 
tively,  looking  first  at  me  and  then  at  her  friend,  who 
had  been  taking  an  inventory  of  the  west  side  of  the  room 
and  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  what  she  was  talking. 

"I  am  overrun  with  beggars,"  she  proceeded. 

Remembering  her  great  reputation  for  charity,  I 
thought  this  natural  and  suggested  as  much.  She  was 
pleased  with  my  sympathy,  and  continued: 

"Why,  they  invade  me  even  in  the  privacy  of  my 
home.  Not  long  ago,  a  person  called  and,  though  I 
had  given  instructions  to  my  butler  to  deny  me  to  per 
sons,  unless  he  knew  their  business  and  I  know  them, 
this  man,  who  was  a  preacher  and  should  have  known 
better,  pushed  himself  in  and  actually  got  into  my 
drawing-room  when  I  was  receiving  some  of  my  friends, 
As  he  saw  me,  of  course  I  could  not  excuse  myself,  and 
do  you  know,  he  had  the  insolence,  not  only  to  dictate 
to  me  how  I  should  spend  my  money,  but  actually  how 
I  should  manage  my  affairs!" 

"Oh!  dear,  think  of  that!"  sighed  the  other  lady. 
"And  you,  of  all  people!" 

I  admitted  that  this  was  extraordinary,  and,  mani 
festly  encouraged,  Mrs.  Argand  swept  on. 

"Why,  he  actually  wanted  me  to  forego  my  rents 
and  let  a  person  stay  in  one  of  my  houses  who  would 
not  pay  his  rent!" 

290 


MRS.  ARGAND 

"Incredible!" 

"The  man  had  had  the  insolence  to  hold  on  and 
actually  force  me  to  bring  suit." 

"Impossible!" 

I  began  to  wish  I  were  back  in  my  office.  At  this 
moment,  however,  succor  came  from  an  unexpected 
source. 

"You  know  we  have  bought  a  house  very  near 
you?"  interjected  the  blonde  girl  who  had  joined  our 
group  and  suddenly  broke  in  on  our  hostess's  mono 
logue. 

"Ah!  I  should  think  you  would  feel  rather  lonely 
up  here — and  would  miss  all  your  old  friends?"  said 
Mrs.  Argand  sweetly,  turning  her  eyes  toward  the 
door.  The  girl  lifted  her  head  and  turned  to  the  other 
lady. 

"Not  at  all.  You  know  lots  of  people  call  at  big 
houses,  Mrs.  Gillis,  just  because  they  are  big,"  said  she, 
with  a  spark  in  her  pale-blue  eye,  and  I  felt  she  was 
able  to  take  care  of  herself. 

But  Mrs.  Argand  did  not  appear  to  hear.  She  was 
looking  over  the  heads  of  the  rest  of  us  with  her  eye  on 
the  door,  when  suddenly,  as  her  servant  in  an  unintelli 
gible  voice  announced  some  one,  her  face  lit  up. 

"Ah!  My  dear  Count!  How  do  you  do  ?  It  was  so 
good  of  you  to  come." 

I  turned  to  look  just  as  Pushkin  brushed  by  me  and, 
with  a  little  rush  between  the  ladies  seated  near  me, 
bent  over  and  seizing  her  hand,  kissed  it  zealously, 
while  he  uttered  his  compliments.  It  manifestly  made 

291 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

a  deep  impression  on  the  company.  I  was  sure  he  had 
seen  me.  The  effect  on  the  company  was  remarkable. 
The  blonde  girl  moved  around  a  little  and  stood  in  front 
of  another  lady  who  pressed  slightly  forward. 

"Count  Pushkin!"  muttered  one  lady  to  Mrs.  Gillis, 
in  an  audible  undertone. 

"Oh!  I  know  him  well."  She  was  evidently  trying 
to  catch  the  count's  eye  to  prove  her  intimate  acquaint 
ance;  but  Pushkin  was  too  much  engrossed  with  or 
by  our  hostess  to  see  her — or  else  was  too  busy  evading 
my  eye. 

"Well,  it's  all  up  with  me,"  I  thought.  "If  I  leave 
him  here,  my  character's  gone  forever." 

"Such  a  beautiful  custom,"  murmured  Mrs.  Gillis's 
friend.  "I  always  like  it." 

"Now,  do  sit  down  and  have  a  cup  of  tea,"  said  our 
hostess.  "I  will  make  you  a  fresh  cup."  She  glanced 
at  a  chair  across  the  room  and  then  at  me,  and  I  almost 
thought  she  was  going  to  ask  me  to  bring  the  chair  for 
the  count!  But  she  thought  better  of  it. 

"Go  and  bring  that  chair  and  sit  right  here  by  me 
and  let  me  know  how  you  are." 

"Here,  take  this  seat,"  said  Mrs.  Gillis,  who  was 
rising,  but  whose  eyes  were  fast  on  Pushkin's  face. 

"Oh!  must  you  be  going?"  asked  Mrs.  Argand. 
"Well,  good-by — so  glad  you  could  come." 

"  Yes,  I  must  go.    How  do  you  do,  Count  Pushkin  ?  " 

"Oh!  ah!  How  do  you  do ?"  said  the  count,  turning 
with  a  start  and  a  short  bow. 

"I  met  you  at  the  ball  not  long  ago.    Miss  McSheen 
292 


MRS.  ARGAND 

introduced  me  to  you.  Don't  you  remember?"  She 
glanced  at  the  young  lady  who  stood  waiting. 

"Ah!  Yes — certainly!  To  be  sure — Miss  McSheen 
— ah!  yes,  I  remember." 

Doubtless,  he  did;  for  at  this  juncture  the  young 
lady  I  had  been  talking  to,  stepped  forward  and  claimed 
the  attention  of  the  count,  who,  I  thought,  looked  a 
trifle  bored. 

Feeling  as  if  I  were  a  mouse  in  a  trap,  I  was  about  to 
try  to  escape  when  my  intention  was  changed  as  sud 
denly  as  by  a  miracle,  and,  indeed,  Eleanor  Leigh's 
appearance  at  this  moment  seemed  almost,  if  not  quite, 
miraculous. 

She  had  been  walking  rapidly  in  the  wind  and  her 
hair  was  a  little  blown  about — not  too  much — for  I 
hate  frowsy  hair — just  enough  to  give  precisely  the 
right  touch  of  "sweet  neglect"  and  naturalness  to  a 
pretty  and  attractive  girl.  Her  cheeks  were  glowing, 
her  eyes  sparkling,  her  face  lighted  with  some  resolu 
tion  which  made  it  at  once  audacious  and  earnest,  and 
as  she  came  tripping  into  the  room  she  suddenly  trans 
formed  it  by  giving  it  something  of  reality  which  it  had 
hitherto  lacked.  She  appeared  like  spring  coming  after 
winter.  She  hurried  up  to  her  aunt  (who,  I  must  say, 
looked  pleased  to  see  her  and  gave  Pushkin  an  arch 
glance  which  I  did  not  fail  to  detect),  and  then,  after 
a  dutiful  and  hasty  kiss,  she  pulled  up  a  chair  and 
dashed  into  the  middle  of  the  subject  which  filled  her 
mind.  She  was  so  eager  about  it  that  she  did  not  pay 
the  least  attention  to  Pushkin,  who,  with  his  heels  close 

293 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

together,  and  his  back  almost  turned  on  the  other  girl, 
who  was  rattling  on  at  his  ear,  was  bowing  and  grinning 
like  a  Japanese  toy;  and  she  did  not  even  see  me, 
where  I  stood  a  little  retired. 

"My  dear,  here  is  Count  Pushkin  trying  to  speak  to 
you,"  said  her  aunt.  "  Come  here,  Miss  McSheen,  and 
tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing."  She  smiled  at  the 
blonde  girl  and  indicated  a  vacated  chair. 

But  Miss  McSheen  saw  the  trap— she  had  no  idea  of 
relinquishing  her  prize,  and  Miss  Leigh  did  not  choose 
to  try  for  a  capture. 

"Howdydo,  Count  Pushkin,"  she  said  over  her 
shoulder,  giving  the  smiling  and  bowing  Pushkin  only 
half  a  nod  and  less  than  half  a  glance.  "Oh!  aunt," 
she  proceeded,  "I  have  such  a  favor  to  ask  you.  Oh, 
it's  a  most  worthy  object,  I  assure  you — really  worthy." 

"How  much  is  it?"  inquired  the  older  lady  casually. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  But  wait — you  must  let  me  tell 
you  about  it,  and  you  will  see  how  good  it  is." 

"My  dear,  I  haven't  a  cent  to  give  to  anything,"  said 
her  aunt.  "I  am  quite  strapped." 

"  I  know,  it's  the  family  disease,"  said  the  girl  lightly, 
and  hurried  on.  "I  am  trying  to  do  some  work  among 
the  poor." 

"The  poor!"  exclaimed  her  aunt.  "My  dear,  I  am 
so  tired  of  hearing  about  the  poor,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do.  I  am  one  of  the  poor  myself.  My  agent  was 
here  this  morning  and  tells  me  that  any  number  of  my 
tenants  are  behind  on  their  rents  and  several  of  my 
best  tenants  have  given  notice  that  on  the  expiration  of 

294 


MRS.  ARGAND 

their  present  terms,  they  want  a  reduction  of  their 
rents." 

"I  know,"  said  the  girl.  "They  are  out  of  work. 
They  are  all  ordered  out,  or  soon  will  be,  papa  says, 
poor  things!  I  have  been  to-day  to  see  a  poor  fam- 

ay-  -" 

"Out  of  work!  Of  course  they  are  out  of  work! 
They  won't  work,  that's  why  they  are  out — and  now 
they  are  talking  of  a  general  strike!  As  if  they  hadn't 
had  strikes  enough.  I  shall  cut  down  my  charities; 
that's  what  I  shall  do." 

"Oh!  aunt,  don't  do  that!"  exclaimed  the  girl. 
"They  are  so  poor.  If  you  could  see  a  poor  family  I 
saw  this  morning.  Why,  they  have  nothing — nothing! 
They  are  literally  starving." 

"Well,  they  have  themselves  to  thank,  if  they  are." 
She  was  now  addressing  the  count,  and  two  or  three 
ladies  seated  near  her  on  the  edge  of  their  chairs. 

"Very  true!"  sighed  one  of  the  latter. 

"I  know,"  said  the  count.  "I  haf  read  it  in  th'  pa 
pers  to-day  t'at  t'ey  vill  what  you  call  strike.  T'ey 
should  be — vhat  you  call,  put  down." 

"  Of  course  they  should.  It  almost  makes  one  despair 
of  mankind,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Gillis,  who,  though 
3tanding,  could  not  tear  herself  away.  As  she  stood 
buttoning  at  a  glove,  I  suddenly  recalled  her  standing 
at  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps  looking  with  cold  eyes  at 
a  child's  funeral. 

"Yes,  their  ingratitude!  It  does,  indeed,"  said  Mrs. 
Argand.  "My  agent — ah!  your  husband — says  I  shall 

295 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

have  to  make  repairs  that  will  take  up  every  bit  of  the 
rents  of  any  number  of  my  houses — and  two  of  my 
largest  warehouses.  I  have  to  repair  them,  of  course. 
And  then  if  this  strike  really  comes,  why,  he  says  it  will 
cost  our  city  lines  alone — oh!  I  don't  know  how  much 
money.  But  I  hate  to  talk  about  money.  It  is  so  sor 
did  ! "  She  sat  back  in  her  chair. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  assented  the  bejewelled  lady  she  ad 
dressed.  "  I  don't  even  like  to  think  about  it.  I  would 
like  just  to  be  able  to  draw  my  cheque  for  whatever  I 
want  and  never  hear  the  word  money — like  you,  Mrs. 
Argand.  But  one  can't  do  it,"  she  sighed.  "Why,  my 
mail " 

"  Why  don't  you  do  as  I  do  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Argand, 
who  had  no  idea  of  having  the  conversation  taken  away 
from  her  in  her  own  house.  "My  secretary  opens  all 
those  letters  and  destroys  them.  I  consider  it  a  great 
impertinence  for  any  one  whom  I  don't  know  to  write 
to  me,  and,  of  course,  I  don't  acknowledge  those  letters. 
My  agent " 

"  My  dear,  we  must  go,"  said  the  lady  nearest  her  to 
her  companion.  As  the  two  ladies  swept  out  they 
stopped  near  me  to  look  at  a  picture,  and  one  of  them 
said  to  the  other: 

"Did  you  ever  hear  a  more  arrogant  display  in  all 
your  life?  Her  secretary!  Her  interest — her  duties! 
As  if  we  didn't  all  have  them!" 

"Yes,  indeed.    And  her  agent!   That's  my  husband ! " 

"But  I  do  think  she  was  right  about  that  man's 

pushing  in " 

296 


MRS.  ARGAND 

"Oh!  yes,  about  that — she  was,  but  she  need  not  be 
parading  her  money  before  us.  My  husband  made  it 
for  old  Argand." 

"My  husband  says  the  Argand  Estate  is  vilely  run, 
that  they  have  the  worst  tenements  in  the  city  and 
charge  the  highest  rents." 

"  Do  you  know  that  my  husband  is  her — agent  ?  " 

"Is  he?  Why,  to  be  sure;  but  of  course,  she  is 
responsible." 

"Yes,  she's  the  cause  of  it." 

"  And  they  pay  more  for  their  franchises  than  any  one 
else.  Why,  my  husband  says  that  Coll  McSheen,  who 
is  the  lawyer  of  the  Argand  Estate,  is  the  greatest  briber 
in  this  city.  I  suppose  he'll  be  buying  a  count  next. 
I  don't  see  how  your  husband  stands  him.  He's  so 
refined — such  a " 

"Well,  they  have  to  have  business  dealings  together, 
you  know." 

"Yes.  They  say  he  just  owns  the  council,  and  now 
he's  to  be  mayor." 

"I  know." 

"Did  you  see  that  article  in  the  paper  about  him 
and  his  methods,  charging  that  he  was  untrue  to  every 
one  in  town,  even  the  Canters  and  Argands  who  em 
ployed  him?" 

"Oh,  didn't  I?  I  tell  my  husband  he'd  better  be 
sure  which  side  to  take.  One  reason  I  came  to-day 
was  to  see  how  she  took  it." 

"So  did  I,"  said  her  friend.  "They  say  the  first 
paper  was  written  by  a  Jew.  It  was  a  scathing  indict- 

297 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ment.  It  charged  him  with  making  a  breach  between 
Mr.  Leigh  and  Mrs.  Argand,  and  now  with  trying  to 
ruin  Mr.  Leigh." 

"And  it  was  written  by  a  Jew?  Was  it,  indeed?  I 
should  like  to  meet  him,  shouldn't  you  ?  But,  of  course, 
we  couldn't  invite  him  to  our  homes.  Do  you  know 
anybody  who  might  invite  him  to  lunch  and  ask  us  to 
meet  him?  It  would  be  so  interesting  to  hear  him 
talk." 

So  they  passed  out,  and  I  went  up  to  make  my  adieux 
to  our  hostess,  secretly  intending  to  remain  longer  if  I 
could  get  a  chance  to  talk  to  her  niece,  who  was  now 
presenting  her  petition  to  her,  while  the  count,  with  his 
eye  on  her  while  he  pretended  to  listen  to  Miss  McSheen, 
stood  by  waiting  like  a  cat  at  a  mousehole. 

As  I  approached,  Miss  Leigh  glanced  up,  and  I  flat 
tered  myself  for  weeks  that  it  was  not  only  surprise,  but 
pleasure,  that  lighted  up  her  face. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do?"  she  said,  and  I  extended 
my  hand,  feeling  as  shy  as  I  ever  did  in  my  life,  but  as 
though  paradise  were  somewhere  close  at  hand. 

"Where  did  you  two  know  each  other?"  demanded 
her  aunt,  suspiciously,  and  I  saw  Pushkin's  face  darken, 
even  while  the  blonde  girl  rattled  on  at  his  ear. 

"Why,  this  is  the  gentleman  who  had  the  poor  chil 
dren  on  the  train  that  day  last  spring.  They  are  the 
same  children  I  have  been  telling  you  about." 

"Yes,  but  I  did  not  know  you  had  ever  really  met." 

"That  was  not  the  only  time  I  have  had  the  good 
fortune  to  meet  Miss  Leigh,"  I  said.  I  wanted  to  add 

298 


MRS.  ARGAND 

that  I  hoped  to  have  yet  better  fortune  hereafter;  but 
I  did  not. 

Perhaps,  it  was  to  save  me  embarrassment  that  Miss 
Leigh  said:  "Mr.  Glave  and  I  teach  in  the  same  Sun 
day-school." 

"Yes,  about  the  she-bears,"  I  hazarded,  thinking  of 
one  at  the  moment. 

Miss  Leigh  laughed.  "I  have  been  trying  to  help 
your  little  friends  since;  I  am  glad  the  she-bears  did  not 
devour  them;  I  think  they  are  in  much  more  danger 
from  the  wolf  at  the  door;  in  fact,  it  was  about  them 
that  I  came  to  see  my  aunt  to-day." 

I  cursed  my  folly  for  not  having  carried  out  my  inten 
tion  of  going  to  look  after  them,  and  registered  a  vow  to 
go  often  thereafter. 

"I  was  so  glad  you  won  their  case  for  them,"  she  said 
in  an  undertone,  moving  over  toward  me,  as  several 
new  visitors  entered.  A  warm  thrill  ran  all  through  my 
veins.  "But  how  did  you  manage  to  get  here?"  she 
asked  with  twinkling  eyes.  "Does  she  know,  or  has 
she  forgiven  you?" 

"She  doesn't  know — at  least,  I  haven't  told  her." 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  be  by — that  is,  in  a  balcony 
— when  she  finds  out  who  you  are." 

"Do  you  think  I  was  very — bold  to  come ?" 

"Bold!  Well,  wait  till  she  discovers  who  you  are, 
Richard  Cceur  de  Leon." 

"Not  I — you  see  that  door?  Well,  you  just 
watch  me.  I  came  for  a  particular  reason  that  made 
me  think  it  best  to  come — and  a  very  good  one," 

299 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  added,  and  glanced  at  her  and  found  her  still 
smiling. 

"What  was  it ?"    She  looked  me  full  in  the  face. 

"I  will  tell  you  some  time " 

"No,  now." 

"No,  next  Sunday  afternoon,  if  you  will  let  me  walk 
home  with  you  after  you  have  explained  the  she-bears." 

She  nodded  "All  right,"  and  I  rose  up  into  the  blue 
sky.  I  almost  thought  I  had  wings. 

"My  aunt  is  really  a  kind  woman — I  can  do  almost 
anything  with  her." 

"Do  you  think  that  proves  it?"  I  said.  I  wanted  to 
say  that  I  was  that  sort  of  a  kind  person  myself,  but  I 
did  not  dare. 

"My  father  says  she  has  a  foible — she  thinks  she  is  a 
wonderful  business  woman,  because  she  can  run  up 
a  column  of  figures  correctly,  and  that  she  makes  a 
great  to-do  over  small  things,  and  lets  the  big  ones  go. 
She  would  not  take  his  advice;  so  he  gave  up  trying  to 
advise  her  and  she  relies  on  two  men  who  flatter  and 
deceive  her." 

"Yes." 

"I  don't  see  how  she  can  keep  those  two  men, 
McSheen  and  Gillis,  as  her  counsel  and  agent.  But  I 
suppose  she  found  them  there  and  does  not  like  to 
change.  My  father  says " 

Just  then  Mrs.  Argand,  after  a  long  scrutiny  of  us 
through  her  lorgnon,  said  rather  sharply: 

"Eleanor!" 

Miss  Leigh  turned  hastily  and  plunged  into  a  sentence. 
300 


MRS.  ARGAND 

"Aunt,  you  do  not  know  how  much  good  the  little 
chapel  you  helped  out  in  the  East  Side  does.  Mr.  Mar — 
the  preacher  there  gets  places  for  poor  people  that  are 
out  of  employment,  and " 

"I  suppose  he  does,  but  save  me  from  these  preach 
ers!  Why,  one  of  them  came  here  the  other  day  and 
would  not  be  refused.  He  actually  forced  himself  into 
my  house.  He  had  a  poor  family  or  something,  he  said, 
and  he  wanted  me  to  undertake  to  support  them.  And 
when  I  came  to  find  out,  they  were  some  of  my  own 
tenants  who  had  positively  refused  to  pay  any  rent,  and 
had  held  on  for  months  to  one  of  my  houses  without 
paying  me  a  penny."  She  had  evidently  forgotten  that 
she  had  just  said  this  a  moment  before.  "I  happened 
to  remember,"  she  added,  "because  my  agent  told  me 
the  man's  name,  O'Neil." 

"McNeil!"  exclaimed  Miss  Leigh.  "Why,  that  is 
the  name  of  my  poor  family!"  She  cut  her  eye  over 
toward  me  with  a  quizzical  sparkle  in  it. 

"What!  Well,  you  need  not  come  to  me  about  that 
man.  My  counsel  said  he  was  one  of  the  worst  charac 
ters  he  knew;  a  regular  anarchist — one  of  these  Irish — 
you  know!  And  when  I  afterward  tried  to  collect  my 
rents,  he  got  some  upstart  creature  of  a  lawyer  to  try 
and  defeat  me,  and  actually  did  defraud  me  of  my 
debt." 

This  was  a  centre  shot  for  me,  and  I  wondered  what 
she  would  think  if  she  ever  found  out  who  the  upstart 
was.  The  perspiration  began  to  start  on  my  forehead. 
It  was  clear  that  I  must  get  away.  She  was,  however, 

301 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

in  such  a  full  sweep  that  I  could  not  get  in  a  word  to  say 
good-by. 

"But  I  soon  gave  Mr.  Marble,  or  whatever  his  name 
was,  a  very  different  idea  of  the  way  he  should  behave 
when  he  came  to  see  a  lady.  I  let  him  know  that  I  pre 
ferred  to  manage  my  affairs  and  select  my  own  objects 
of  charity,  without  being  dictated  to  by  any  one,  and 
that  I  did  not  propose  to  help  anarchists.  And  I  soon 
gave  Mr.  McNeil  to  understand  whom  he  had  to  deal 
with.  I  ordered  him  turned  out  at  once — instantly." 
She  was  now  addressing  me. 

She  was  so  well  satisfied  with  her  position  that  I  must 
have  looked  astonished,  and  I  had  not  at  first  a  word  to 
say.  This  she  took  for  acquiescence. 

"That  was,  perhaps,  the  greatest  piece  of  insolence 
I  ever  knew!"  she  continued.  "Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Well,  no,  I  do  not,"  I  said  bluntly. 

For  a  moment  or  so  her  face  was  a  perfect  blank, 
then  it  was  filled  with  amazement.  Her  whole  person 
changed.  Her  head  went  up — her  eyes  flashed,  her 
color  deepened. 

"Oh!"  she  said.  "Perhaps,  we  look  at  the  matter 
from  different  standpoints?"  rearing  back  more  stiffly 
than  ever. 

"Unquestionably,  madam.  I  happen  to  know  John 
Marvel,  the  gentleman  who  called  on  you,  very  well, 
and  I  know  him  to  be  one  of  the  best  men  in  the  world. 
I  know  that  he  supported  that  poor  family  out  of  his 
own  small  income,  and  when  they  were  turned  out  of 
their  house,  fed  them  until  he  could  get  the  father  some 

302 


MRS.  ARGAND 

work  to  do.  He  was  not  an  anarchist,  but  a  hard-work 
ing  Scotchman,  who  had  been  ill  and  had  lost  his 
place." 

"Oh!"  she  said — this  time  with  renewed  supercilious 
ness,  raising  her  lorgnon  to  observe  some  new-comers. 

"Perhaps,  you  happen  also  to  know  McNeil's  coun 
sel — perhaps,  you  are  the  man  yourself?"  she  added 
insolently. 

I  bowed  low.    "I  am." 

The  truth  swept  over  her  like  a  flood.  Before  she 
recovered,  I  bowed  my  adieux,  of  which,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,  she  took  no  notice.  She  turned  to  Pushkin,  as 
Miss  Leigh,  from  behind  a  high-backed  chair,  held  out 
her  hand  to  me.  "Well,  poor  McNeil's  done  for  now," 
she  said  in  an  undertone.  But  as  the  latter  smiled  in 
my  eyes,  I  did  not  care  what  her  aunt  said. 

"Ah!  my  dear  Count,  here  is  the  tea  at  last,"  I  heard 
our  hostess  say,  and  then  she  added  solicitously,  "I 
have  not  seen  you  for  so  long.  Why  have  you  denied 
yourself  to  your  friends?  You  have  quite  gotten  over 
your  accident  of  the  spring?  I  read  about  it  in  the 
papers  at  the  time.  Such  a  noble  thing  to  have  stopped 
those  horses.  You  must  tell  me  about  it.  How  did  it 
happen?" 

I  could  not  help  turning  to  give  Pushkin  one  look, 
and  he  hesitated  and  stammered.  I  came  out  filled 
with  a  new  sense  of  what  was  meant  by  the  curses 
against  the  Pharisees.  As  I  was  walking  along  I  ran 
into  Wolffert. 

"Ah!  You  are  the  very  man,"  he  exclaimed.  "It 
303 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

is  Providence!     I  was  just  thinking  of  you,  and  you  ran 
into  my  arms.     It  is  Fate." 

It  did  seem  so.  Mrs.  Argand  and  her  "dear  count" 
had  sickened  me.  Here,  at  least,  was  sincerity.  But 
I  wondered  if  he  knew  that  Miss  Leigh  was  within 
there. 


304 


XXIV 

WOLFFERT'S  MISSION 

Wolffert  naturally  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see 
me  come  sallying  forth  from  Mrs.  Argand's;  for  he 
knew  what  I  had  not  known  when  I  called  there,  that 
she  was  the  real  owner  of  "The  Argand  Estate." 

I  gave  him  an  account  of  my  interview  with  the  lady. 

"I  was  wondering,"  he  said,  laughing,  "what  you 
were  doing  in  there  after  having  beaten  her  in  that  suit. 
I  thought  you  had  taken  your  nerve  with  you.  I  was 
afraid  you  had  fallen  a  victim  to  her  blandishments." 

"To  whose?" 

"Mrs.  Argand's.  She  is  the  true  Circe  of  the  time, 
and  her  enchantment  is  one  that  only  the  strong  can 
resist.  She  reaches  men  through  their  bellies." 

"Oh!"  I  was  thinking  of  quite  another  person,  who 
alone  could  beguile  me,  and  I  was  glad  that  he  was  not 
looking  at  me. 

He  was,  however,  too  full  of  another  subject  to  notice 
me,  and  as  we  walked  along,  I  told  him  of  the  old  lady's 
views  about  John  Marvel.  He  suddenly  launched  out 
against  her  with  a  passion  which  I  was  scarcely  pre 
pared  for,  as  much  as  I  knew  he  loved  John  Marvel. 
Turning,  he  pointed  fiercely  back  at  the  great  prison- 
like  mansion. 

305 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Do  you  see  that  big  house?"  His  long  finger 
shook  slightly — an  index  of  his  feeling. 

"Yes." 

"Every  stone  in  it  is  laid  in  mortar  cemented  with 
the  tears  of  widows  and  orphans,  and  the  blood  of 
countless  victims  of  greed  and  oppression." 

"Oh!  nonsense!  I  have  no  brief  for  that  old  woman. 
I  think  she  is  an  ignorant,  arrogant,  purse-proud,  ill- 
bred  old  creature,  spoiled  by  her  wealth  and  the  adula 
tion  that  it  has  brought  her  from  a  society  of  syco 
phants  and  parasites;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  at  heart 
she  is  bad."  She  had  had  a  good  advocate  defend 
her  to  me  and  I  was  quoting  her.  Wolffert  was  unap- 
peased. 

"That  is  it.  She  sets  up  to  be  the  paragon  of  Gener 
osity,  the  patron  of  Charity,  the  example  of  Kindness 
for  all  to  follow.  She  never  gave  a  cent  in  her  life — but 
only  a  portion— a  small  portion  of  the  money  wrung 
from  the  hearts  of  others.  Her  fortune  was  laid  in  cor 
ruption.  Her  old  husband— I  knew  him!— he  robbed 
every  one,  even  his  partners.  He  defrauded  his  bene 
factor,  Colonel  Tipps,  who  made  him,  and  robbed  his 
heirs  of  their  inheritance." 

"How ?"    For  I  was  much  interested  now. 

"By  buying  up  their  counsel,  and  inducing  him  to 
sell  them  out  and  making  him  his  counsel.  And  now 
that  old  woman  keeps  him  as  her  counsel  and  adviser, 
though  he  is  the  worst  man  in  this  city,  guilty  of  every 
crime  on  the  statute-books,  sacred  and  profane." 

"But  she  does  not  know  that?" 
306 


WOLFFERT'S  MISSION 

"Not  know  it?  Why  doesn't  she  know  it ?  Because 
she  shuts  her  doors  to  the  men  who  do  know  it,  and  her 
ears  to  the  cries  of  his  victims.  Doesn't  every  one  who 
cares  to  look  into  the  crimes  in  this  city  know  that  Coll 
McSheen  is  the  protector  of  Vice,  and  that  he  could  not 
exist  a  day  if  the  so-called  good  people  got  up  and  de 
termined  to  abolish  him — that  he  is  the  owner  of  the 
vilest  houses  in  this  city — the  vilest  because  they  are 
not  so  openly  vile  as  some  others  ?  Isn't  she  trying  to 
sell  her  niece  to  an  adventurer  for  a  title,  or  a  reprobate 
for  his  money  ?  " 

"  Is  she  ?  "  My  blood  suddenly  began  to  boil,  and  I 
began  to  get  a  new  insight  into  Wolffert' s  hostility. 

We  had  turned  toward  John  Marvel's.  He  appeared 
a  sort  of  landmark  to  which  to  turn  as  we  were  dealing 
with  serious  subjects,  and  Wolffert  was  on  his  way  there 
when  I  encountered  him.  As  we  walked  along,  he  dis 
closed  a  system  of  vice  so  widespread,  so  horrible  and 
so  repulsive  that  I  hesitate  to  set  it  down.  He  de 
clared  that  it  extended  over  not  only  all  the  great 
cities  of  the  country,  but  over  all  the  great  cities  of  all 
countries. 

I  related  the  story  the  poor  girl  I  had  met  that  night 
on  the  street  had  told  me,  but  I  frankly  asserted  that 
I  did  not  believe  that  it  could  be  as  general  as  he  claimed. 

"'Smooth  Ally,'  was  it?"  said  Wolffert,  who  knew 
of  her.  "She  is  the  smoothest  and  worst  of  them  all, 
and  she  is  protected  by  McSheen,  who  in  turn  is  pro 
tected  by  clients  like  The  Argand  Estate.  What  became 
of  her?"  he  demanded. 

307 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Why,  I  don't  know.  I  turned  her  over  to  the  Sal 
vationists — and — and  I — rather  left  her  to  them." 

I  was  beginning  to  feel  somewhat  meek  under  his 
scornful  expression. 

"That  is  always  the  way,"  he  said.  "We  look  after 
them  for  an  hour  and  then  drop  them  back  into  per 
dition." 

"But  I  placed  her  in  good  hands.  That  is  their 
business." 

"Their  business!  Why  is  it  not  your  business,  too? 
How  can  you  shift  the  responsibility  ?  It  is  every  one's 
business.  Listen!"  He  had  been  recently  to  southern 
Russia,  where,  he  said,  the  system  of  scoundrelism  he 
described  had  one  of  its  prolific  sources,  and  he  gave 
figures  of  the  numbers  of  victims — girls  of  his  own  race 
— gathered  up  throughout  the  provinces  and  shipped 
from  Odessa  and  other  ports,  to  other  countries,  in 
cluding  America,  to  startle  one. 

"Time  was  when  not  a  Jewess  was  to  be  found  on 
the  streets;  but  now!"  He  threw  out  his  hand  with 
a  gesture  of  rage,  and  went  on.  He  averred  that  many 
steamship  officials  combined  to  connive  at  the  traffic, 
and  that  the  criminals  were  shielded  by  powerful  friends 
who  were  paid  for  their  protection. 

"Why,  there  are  in  this  city  to-night,"  he  declared, 
"literally  thousands  of  women  who  have,  without  any 
fault  of  theirs,  but  ignorance,  vanity,  and  credulity, 
been  drawn  into  and  condemned  to  a  life  of  vice  and 
misery  such  as  the  mind  staggers  to  believe." 

"At  least,  if  they  are,  they  are  in  the  main  willing 
308 


WOLFFERT'S  MISSION 

victims,"  I  argued.  "There  may  be  a  few  instances  like 
the  girl  I  saw,  but  for  the  most  part  they  have  done  it 
of  their  own  volition." 

Wolffert  turned  on  me  with  fire  flaming  in  his  deep 
eyes.  "Of  their  own  volition!  What  is  their  volition? 
In  fact,  most  of  them  are  not  voluntary  accomplices. 
But  if  they  were — it  is  simple  ignorance  on  their  part, 
and  is  that  any  reason  for  their  undergoing  the  tortures 
of  the  damned  in  this  world,  not  to  mention  what  your 
Church  teaches  of  the  next  world  ?  Who  brought  them 
there — the  man  who  deceived  and  betrayed  them? 
Who  acted  on  their  weakness  and  drew  them  in? — 
their  seducers? — the  wretches  who  lure  them  to  their 
destruction? — Not  at  all!  Jail-birds  and  scoundrels 
as  they  are,  deserving  the  gallows  if  any  one  does,  which 
I  do  not  think  any  one  does — but  you  do — the  ultimate 
miscreant  is  not  even  the  Coll  McSheens  who  protect  it; 
but  Society  which  permits  it  to  go  on  unchecked  when, 
by  the  least  serious  and  sensible  effort,  it  could  pre 
vent  it." 

"How?"  I  demanded. 

"How!  By  determining  to  prevent  it  and  then 
organizing  to  do  so.  By  simply  being  honest.  Has  it 
not  broken  up  the  institution  of  slavery — highway  rob 
bery,  organized  murder — except  by  itself  and  its  mem 
bers  ?  Of  course,  it  could  prevent  it  if  it  set  itself  to 
do  it.  But  it  is  so  steeped  in  selfishness  and  hypocrisy 
that  it  has  no  mind  to  anything  that  interferes  with  its 
pleasures." 

We  had  now  reached  John  Marvel's,  where  we  found 
309 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

John,  just  back  from  a  visit  to  a  poor  girl  who  was  ill, 
and  his  account  only  added  fuel  to  Wolffert's  flaming 
wrath.  He  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor,  as  small 
as  it  was,  his  face  working,  his  eyes  flashing,  and  sud 
denly  he  let  a  light  in  on  his  ultimate  motive.  He 
launched  out  in  a  tirade  against  existing  social  condi 
tions  that  exceeded  anything  I  had  ever  heard.  He 
declared  that  within  hearing  of  the  most  opulent  and 
extravagant  class  the  world  had  ever  known  were  the 
cries  and  groans  of  the  most  wretched;  that  the  former 
shut  their  ears  and  their  eyes  to  it,  and,  contenting  them 
selves  with  tossing  a  few  pennies  to  a  starving  multitude, 
went  on  wallowing  like  swine  in  their  own  voluptuous 
ness.  Look  at  the  most  talked  of  young  man  in  this 
city  to-day,  the  bon  parti,  the  coveted  of  aspiring 
mothers.  He  lives  a  life  to  make  a  beast  blush.  He  is 
a  seducer  of  women,  a  denizen  of  brothels;  a  gambler 
in  the  life-blood  of  women  and  children,  a  fatted 
swine,  yet  he  is  the  courted  and  petted  of  those  who 
call  themselves  the  best  people!  Faugh!  it  makes  me 
sick." 

This  was  to  some  extent  satisfactory  to  me,  for  I  de 
tested  Canter;  but  I  wondered  if  Wolffert  did  not  have 
the  same  reason  for  disliking  him  that  I  had. 

"There  was  never  so  selfish  and  hypocritical  a  so 
ciety  on  earth,"  he  exclaimed,  "as  this  which  now  ex 
ists.  In  times  past,  under  the  feudal  system,  there  was 
apparently  some  reason  for  the  existence  of  the  so-called 
upper  classes — the  first  castle  built  made  necessary  all 
the  others — the  chief,  at  least,  protected  the  subjects 

310 


WOLFFERT'S  MISSION 

from  the  rapine  of  others,  and  he  was  always  ready  to 
imperil  his  life;  but  now — this!  When  they  all  claim  to 
know,  and  do  know  much,  they  sit  quiet  in  their  own 
smug  content  like  fatted  swine,  and  let  rapine,  debauch 
ery,  and  murder  go  on  as  it  never  has  gone  on  in  the 
last  three  hundred  years." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  I  demanded,  im 
pressed  by  his  vehemence,  but  mystified  by  his  furious 
indictment.  He  cooled  down  for  a  moment,  and  wiped 
his  hand  across  his  eyes. 

"I  am  fresh  from  the  scene  of  as  brutal  a  butchery," 
he  said,  "as  has  taken  place  within  a  thousand  years. 
Israel  is  undergoing  to-day  the  most  extensive  and 
complete  persecution  that  has  existed  since  the  close  of 
the  crusades.  No  wonder  the  young  women  fall  vic 
tims  to  the  scoundrels  who  offer  them  an  asylum  in  a 
new  land  and  lure  them  to  their  destruction  with  gifts 
of  gold  and  words  of  peace.  And  this  is  what  Society 
does — the  virtue-boasting  Society  of  the  twentieth  cen 
tury!  They  speak  of  anarchy! — What  they  mean  is  a 
condition  which  disturbs  the  repose  of  the  rich  and 
powerful.  There  is  anarchy  now— the  anarchy  that 
consists  of  want  of  equal  government  for  rich  and  poor 
alike.  Look  at  John  Marvel,  here,  preaching  a  gospel 
of  universal  love  and  acting  it,  too." 

" Wolff ert,"  said  Marvel,  softly,  "don't.  Leave  me 
out — you  know  I  do  not — you  are  simply  blinded  by 
your  affection  for  me " 

But  Wolffert  swept  on.  "Yes,  he  does — if  any  man 
ever  does — he  lives  for  others — and  what  does  he  get? 

311 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Shunted  off  by  a  fat,  sleek,  self-seeking  priest,  who 
speaks  smooth  things  to  a  people  who  will  have  nothing 
else." 

"Wolffert,  you  must  not,"  protested  John;  "I  can 
not  allow  you." 

But  Wolffert  was  in  full  tide.  With  a  gesture  he  put 
John's  protest  by.  " — To  preach  and  teach  the  poor 
how  to  be  patient — how  to  suffer  in  silence " 

"Now,  Leo,"  said  John,  taking  him  by  the  shoul 
ders,  "I  must  stop  you — you  are  just  tired,  excited — 
overworked.  If  they  suffer  patiently  they  are  so  much 
the  better  off-  -their  lot  will  be  all  the  happier  in  the 
next  world." 

Wolffert  sat  down  on  the  bed  with  a  smile.  "What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  such  a  man  ? "  he  said  to  me, 
with  a  despairing  shrug.  "And  you  know  the  curious 
thing  is  he  believes  it." 

I  went  to  my  own  room,  feeling  still  like  the  prodigal, 
and  that  I  had  somehow  gotten  back  home.  But  I  had 
a  deeper  and  more  novel  feeling.  A  new  light  had  come 
to  me,  faintly,  but  still  a  light.  What  had  I  ever  done 
except  for  myself  ?  Here  were  two  men  equally  as  poor 
as  I,  living  the  life  of  self-denial — one  actually  by  choice, 
the  other  as  willingly  and  uncomplainingly  as  though  it 
were  by  choice,  and  both  not  only  content,  but  happy. 
Why  should  not  I  enter  the  brotherhood?  Here  was 
something  far  higher  and  nobler  than  anything  I  had 
ever  contemplated  taking  part  in.  What  was  it  that 
withheld  me  ?  Was  it,  I  questioned  myself,  that  I,  with 
no  association  whatever  in  the  town  except  the  poor, 

312 


WOLFFERT'S  MISSION 

yet  belonged  to  the  class  that  Wolffert  crusaded  against  ? 
Was  there  something  fundamentally  wrong  with  so 
ciety  ?  I  could  not  enter  freely  into  Wolffert's  rhapsody 
of  hate  for  the  oppressors,  nor  yet  into  John  Marvel's 
quiet,  deep,  and  unreasoning  love  of  Mankind.  Yet  I 
began  to  see  dimly  things  I  had  never  had  a  glimmer  of 
before. 

The  association  with  my  old  friends  made  life  a 
wholly  different  thing  for  me,  and  I  made  through  them 
many  new  friends.  They  were  very  poor  and  did  not 
count  for  much  in  the  world;  but  they  were  real  peo 
ple,  and  their  life,  simple  and  insignificant  as  it  was, 
was  real  and  without  sham.  I  found,  indeed,  that  one 
got  much  nearer  to  the  poor  than  to  the  better  class — 
their  life  was  more  natural;  small  things  matter  so 
much  more  to  them.  In  fact,  the  smallest  thing  may 
be  a  great  thing  to  a  poor  man.  Also  I  found  a  kind 
ness  and  generosity  quite  out  of  proportion  to  that  of 
the  well-to-do.  However  poor  and  destitute  a  man  or 
a  family  might  be  there  was  always  some  one  poorer 
and  more  destitute,  and  they  gave  with  a  generosity 
that  was  liberality,  indeed.  For  they  gave  of  their 
penury  what  was  their  living.  Whatever  the  organ 
ized  charities  may  do,  and  they  do  much,  the  poor  sup 
port  the  poor  and  they  rely  on  each  other  to  an  extent 
unknown  among  their  more  fortunate  fellow-citizens. 
As  the  Egyptian  always  stops  to  lift  another's  load,  so 
here  I  found  men  always  turning  in  to  lend  their  aid. 

Thus,  gradually  in  the  association  of  my  friends  who 
were  working  among  the  poor  and  helping  to  carry 

313 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

their  burdens,  I  began  to  find  a  new  field  and  to  reap  in 
it  a  content  to  which  I  had  long  been  a  stranger.  Also 
life  began  to  take  on  for  me  a  wholly  new  significance; 
as  a  field  of  work  in  which  a  man  might  escape  from 
the  slavery  of  a  selfish  convention  which  cramped  the 
soul,  into  a  larger  life  where  service  to  mankind  was  the 
same  with  service  to  God,  a  life  where  forms  were  of 
small  import  and  where  the  Christian  and  the  Jew 
worked  shoulder  to  shoulder  and  walked  hand  in  hand. 
How  much  of  my  new  feeling  was  due  to  Miss  Eleanor 
Leigh,  I  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  consider. 

"Father,"  said  Eleanor,  that  evening,  "I  have  a  poor 
man  whom  I  want  a  place  for,  and  I  must  have  it." 

Mr.  Leigh  smiled.  "You  generally  do  have.  Is  this 
one  poorer  than  those  others  you  have  saddled  on  me  ?  " 

"  Now  don't  be  a  tease.  Levity  is  not  becoming  in  a 
man  of  your  dignity.  This  man  is  very  poor,  indeed, 
and  he  has  a  houseful  of  children — and  his  wife " 

"I  know,"  said  Mr.  Leigh,  throwing  up  his  hand 
with  a  gesture  of  appeal.  "I  surrender.  They  all 
have.  What  can  this  one  do?  Butts  says  every  fore 
man  in  the  shops  is  complaining  that  we  are  filling  up 
with  a  lot  of  men  who  don't  want  to  do  anything  and 
couldn't  do  it  if  they  did." 

"Oh!  This  man  is  a  fine  workman.  He  is  an  expert 
machinist — has  worked  for  years  in  boiler  shops — has 
driven — 

"Why  is  he  out  of  a  job  if  he  is  such  a  universal 
paragon  ?  Does  he  drink  ?  Remember,  we  can't  take 
in  men  who  drink — a  bucket  of  beer  cost  us  twelve 

314 


WOLFFERT'S  MISSION 

thousand  dollars  last  year,  not  to  mention  the  loss  of 
two  lives." 

"He  is  as  sober  as  a  judge,"  declared  his  daughter, 
solemnly. 

"What  is  it  then?— Loafer?" 

"He  lost  his  place  where  he  lived  before  by  a  strike." 

"A  striker,  is  he!  Well,  please  excuse  me.  I  have 
a  plenty  of  that  sort  now  without  going  outside  to  drag 
them  in." 

"No— no— no— "  exclaimed  Eleanor.  "My!  How 
you  do  talk!  You  won't  give  me  a  chance  to  say  a 
word!" 

"  I  like  that,"  laughed  her  father.  "  Here  I  have  been 
listening  patiently  to  a  catalogue  of  the  virtues  of  a  man 
I  never  heard  of  and  simply  asking  questions,  and  as 
soon  as  I  put  in  a  pertinent  one,  away  you  go.". 

"Well,  listen.  You  have  heard  of  him.  I'll  tell  you 
who  he  is.  You  remember  my  telling  you  of  the  poor 
family  that  was  on  the  train  last  year  when  I  came  back 
in  Aunt  Sophia's  car  and  we  delayed  the  train  ?" 

"I  remember  something  about  it.  I  never  was  sure 
as  to  the  facts  in  the  case.  I  only  know  that  that 
paper  contained  a  most  infamous  and  lying  attack 
on  me " 

"I  know  it— it  was  simply  infamous— but  this  poor 
man  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  That  was  his  family, 
and  they  came  on  to  job  him  because  he  had  gotten  a 
place.  But  the  Union  turned  him  out  because  he  didn't 
belong  to  it,  and  then  he  wanted  to  join  the  Union,  but 
the  walking-delegate  or  something  would  not  let  him, 

315 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  now  he  has  been  out  of  work  so  long  that  they  are 
simply  starving." 

"You  want  some  money,  I  suppose?"  Mr.  Leigh  put 
his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

"No.  I  have  helped  him,  but  he  isn't  a  beggar — he 
wants  work.  He's  the  real  thing,  Dad,  and  I  feel  rather 
responsible,  because  Aunt  Sophia  turned  them  out  of 
the  house  they  had  rented  and — though  that  young 
lawyer  I  told  you  of  won  his  case  for  him  and  saved  his 
furniture — the  little  bit  he  had — he  has  lost  it  all  through 
the  loan-sharks  who  eat  up  the  poor.  I  tried  to  get 
Aunt  Sophia  to  make  her  man,  Gillis,  let  up  on  him, 
but  she  wouldn't  interfere." 

"That's  strange,  for  she  is  not  an  unkind  woman — 
she  is  only  hard  set  in  certain  ways  which  she  calls  her 
principles." 

"Yes,  it  was  rather  unfortunate.  You  see,  Mr.  Glave 
was  there  and  Aunt  Sophia! — you  should  have  seen 
her." 

She  proceeded  to  give  an  account  of  Mrs.  Argand's 
discovery  of  my  identity,  and  to  take  us  both  off. 

"They  didn't  pay  the  rent,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes.  But  it  was  not  his  fault — just  their  misfortune. 
His  wife's  illness  and  being  out  of  work  and  all — it  just 
piled  up  on  top  of  him.  A  man  named  Ring — some 
thing — a  walking-delegate  whom  he  used  to  know  back 
in  the  East,  got  down  on  him,  and  followed  him  up,  and 
when  he  was  about  to  get  in  the  Union,  he  turned  him 
down.  And,  Dad,  you've  just  got  to  give  him  a  place." 

"Wringman,  possibly,"  said  Mr.  Leigh.  "There's 
316 


WOLFFERT'S  MISSION 

a  man  of  that  name  in  the  city  who  seems  to  be  some 
thing  of  a  leader.  He's  a  henchman  of  Coll  McSheen 
and  does  his  dirty  work  for  him.  He  has  been  trying  to 
make  trouble  for  us  for  some  time.  Send  your  man 
around  to  Butts  to-morrow,  and  I'll  see  what  we  can 
do  for  him." 

Eleanor  ran  and  flung  her  arms  around  her  father's 
neck.  "Oh!  Dad!  If  you  only  knew  what  a  load  you 
have  lifted  from  my  shoulders.  I  believe  Heaven  will 
bless  you  for  this." 

"I  know  Butts  will,"  said  Mr.  Leigh,  kissing  her. 
" How's  our  friend,  the  Marvel,  coming  on?" 

"Dad,  he's  a  saint!" 

"So  I  have  heard  before,"  said  Mr.  Leigh.  "And 
that  other  one — how  is  he  ?" 

"Which  one?" 

"Is  there  any  other  but  the  Jew?  I  have  not  heard 
of  another  reforming  saint." 

"No,  he  is  a  sinner,"  said  Eleanor,  laughing;  and 
she  went  on  to  give  an  account  of  my  episode  with 
Pushkin,  which  she  had  learned  from  John  Marvel, 
who,  I  may  say,  had  done  me  more  than  justice  in  his 
relation  of  the  matter. 

"  So  the  count  thought  a  team  had  run  over  him,  did 
he?" 

"Yes,  that's  what  Mr.  Marvel  said." 

She  related  a  brief  conversation  which  had  taken 
place  between  her  and  Pushkin  and  Mrs.  Argand,  after 
I  left,  in  which  Pushkin  had  undertaken  to  express  his 
opinion  of  me,  and  she  had  given  him  to  understand 

317 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

that  she  knew  the  true  facts  in  the  matter  of  our  col 
lision.  All  of  which  I  learned  much  later. 

"Well,  I  must  say,"  said  Mr.  Leigh,  "your  new 
friend  appears  to  have  'his  nerve  with  him/  as  you 
say." 

"Dad,  I  never  use  slang,"  said  Miss  Eleanor,  se 
verely.  "I  am  glad  you  have  promised  to  give  poor 
McNeil  a  place,  for,  if  you  had  not,  I  should  have  had 
to  take  him  into  the  house." 

Mr.  Leigh  laughed. 

"I  am  glad,  too,  if  that  is  the  case.  The  last  one  you 
took  in  was  a  reformed  drunkard,  you  said,  and  you 
know  what  happened  to  him  and  also  to  my  wine." 

"Yes,  but  this  one  is  all  right." 

"Of  course  he  is." 

There  was  joy  next  day  in  one  poor  little  household, 
for  McNeil,  who  had  been  dragging  along  through  the 
streets  for  days  with  a  weight,  the  heaviest  the  poor 
have  to  bear,  bowing  him  down — want  of  work — came 
into  his  little  bare  room  where  his  wife  and  children 
huddled  over  an  almost  empty  stove,  with  a  new  step 
and  a  fresh  note  in  his  voice.  He  had  gotten  a  place 
and  it  meant  life  to  him  and  to  those  he  loved. 


318 


XXV 

FATE  LEADS 

One  evening  I  called  at  Mrs.  Kale's  to  see  my  two 
old  ladies  of  the  bundles  and  also  Mrs.  Kale,  for  whom 
I  had  conceived  a  high  regard  on  account  of  her  kind 
ness  to  the  former  as  well  as  to  myself,  and  in  the  course 
of  my  visit  Miss  Pansy  gave  me,  for  not  the  first  time, 
an  account  of  the  way  in  which  they  had  been  reduced 
from  what  they  thought  affluence  to  what  she  very 
truly  called  "straitened  circumstances."  I  confess  that 
I  was  rather  bored  by  her  relation,  which  was  given 
with  much  circumlocution  until  she  mentioned  casually 
that  Miss  Leigh  had  tried  to  interest  her  father  in  their 
case,  but  he  had  said  it  was  too  late  to  do  anything. 
The  mention  of  her  name  instantly  made  me  alert.  If 
she  was  interested,  I  was  interested  also.  I  began  to 
ask  questions,  and  soon  had  their  whole  story  as  well 
as  she  could  give  it. 

"Why,  it  may  or  may  not  be  too  late,"  I  said.  " It  is 
certainly  very  long  ago,  and  the  chances  of  being  able 
to  do  anything  now  are  very  remote;  but  if  there  was 
a  fraud,  and  it  could  be  proved,  it  would  not  be  too  late 
— or,  at  least,  might  not  be." 

"Oh!  Do  you  think  that  you  could  recover  any 
thing  for  us?  Mr.  McSheen  said  nothing  could  be 

319 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

gotten  out  of  it,  and  we  paid  him — a  great  deal,"  she 
sighed,  "  — everything  we  had  in  the  world,  almost." 

"I  do  not  say  that,  but  if  there  was  a  fraud,  and  it 
could  be  proved,  it  might  not  be  too  late." 

The  name  of  McSheen  had  given  me  a  suspicion  that 
all  might  not  be  straight.  Nothing  could  be  if  he  was 
connected  with  it.  I  recalled  what  Wolffert  had 
told  me  of  McSheen 's  selling  out.  Moreover,  her  story 
had  unconsciously  been  a  moving  one.  They  had  evi 
dently  been  hardly  used  and,  I  believed,  defrauded. 
So,  when  she  pressed  me,  and  promised  if  she  were 
ever  able  to  do  so  she  "would  reward  me  generously," 
as  if,  poor  soul,  she  could  ever  reward  any  one  save  with 
her  prayers,  I  undertook  to  look  into  the  matter  for 
them,  and  I  began  next  day. 

I  will  not  go  into  the  steps  I  took  to  reach  my  ends, 
nor  the  difficulties  I  encountered,  which  grew  as  I  pro 
gressed  in  my  investigation  until  they  appeared  almost 
insurmountable;  but  finally  I  struck  a  lead  which  at 
last  led  me  to  a  conviction  that  if  I  could  but  secure  the 
evidence  I  could  establish  such  a  case  of  fraud  for  my 
two  old  clients  as  would  give  promise  of  a  fair  chance 
to  recover  for  them,  at  least,  a  part  of  their  patrimony. 
The  difficulty,  or  one  of  them — for  they  were  innu 
merable — was  that  to  establish  their  case  it  was  neces 
sary  to  prove  that  several  men  who  had  stood  high  in 
the  public  esteem,  had  been  guilty  of  such  disregard  of 
the  rights  of  those  to  whom  they  stood  in  the  relation 
of  trustees  that  it  would  be  held  a  fraud.  I  was  satis 
fied  that  had  McSheen  taken  proper  steps  to  secure  his 

320 


FATE  LEADS 

clients*  rights,  he  might  have  succeeded  and  further,  that 
he  had  been  bought  off,  but  the  difficulty  was  to  prove  it. 

However,  I  determined  to  make  the  effort  to  get  the 
proof  and  my  zeal  was  suddenly  quickened. 

I  had  now  begun  to  watch  for  my  young  lady  wher 
ever  I  went,  and  it  was  astonishing  how  my  quickened 
senses  enabled  me  to  find  her  in  the  most  crowded 
thoroughfare,  or  in  strange  and  out-of-the-way  places. 
It  was  almost  as  if  there  were  some  secret  power  which 
drew  us  together.  And  when  I  was  blessed  to  meet  her 
the  day  was  always  one  of  sunshine  for  me,  however 
heavy  lowered  the  dim  clouds. 

The  next  afternoon  our  meeting  was  so  unexpected 
that  I  could  not  but  set  it  down  to  the  ruling  of  a  higher 
power.  I  had  gone  out  to  see  how  my  McNeil  clients 
were  coming  on,  having  doubtless  some  latent  hope 
that  I  might  find  her  there;  but  she  had  not  been  there 
for  several  days.  They  had  heard  of  her,  however,  for 
she  had  got  the  husband  and  father  a  place  and  that 
made  sunshine  in  the  wretched  little  hovel,  as  bare  as  it 
was.  I  was  touched  by  their  gratitude,  and  after  tak 
ing  note  of  the  wretched  poverty  of  the  family,  and 
promising  that  I  would  try  to  get  the  mother  some  sort 
of  work,  I  strolled  on.  I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  sud 
denly  came  on  her  face  to  face.  The  smile  that  came 
into  her  eyes  must  have  brought  my  soul  into  my  face. 

Love  is  the  true  miracle-worker.  It  can  change  the 
most  prosaic  region  into  a  scene  of  romance.  At  sight 
of  Eleanor  Leigh's  slim  figure  the  dull  street  suddenly 
became  an  enchanted  land. 

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JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Well,  we  appear  fated  to  meet,"  she  said  with  a 
smile  and  intonation  that  my  heart  feasted  on  for  days. 
She  little  knew  how  assiduously  I  had  played  Fate 
during  these  past  weeks,  haunting  the  streets  near  her 
home  or  those  places  which  she  blessed  with  her  pres 
ence.  This  meeting,  however,  was  purely  accidental, 
unless  it  be  true,  as  I  sometimes  almost  incline  to  think, 
that  some  occult  power  which  we  cannot  understand 
rules  all  our  actions  and  guides  our  footsteps  toward 
those  we  love  supremely.  John  Marvel  always  called 
it  Providence. 

"Well,  may  I  not  see  you  home?"  I  asked,  and  with 
out  waiting  for  her  consent,  I  took  it  for  granted  and 
turned  back  with  her,  though  she  protested  against 
taking  me  out  of  my  way.  I  had  indeed  some  difficulty 
in  not  saying  then  and  there,  "My  way  is  where  you 
are." 

She  had  been  to  see  one  of  her  scholars  who  was 
sick,  "the  little  cripple,  whom  you  know,"  she  said. 
I  suddenly  began  to  think  cripples  the  most  interesting 
of  mortals.  She  gave  me,  as  we  strolled  along,  an 
account  of  her  first  acquaintance  with  her  and  her 
mother;  and  of  how  John  Marvel  had  found  out  their 
condition  and  helped  them.  Then  she  had  tried  to  help 
them  a  little,  and  had  gotten  the  mother  to  let  her  have 
the  little  girl  at  her  school. 

"Now  they  are  doing  a  little  better,"  she  said,  "but 
you  never  saw  such  wretchedness.  The  woman  had 
given  up  everything  in  the  world  to  try  to  save  her  hus 
band,  and  such  a  wretched  hole  as  they  lived  in  you 

322 


FATE  LEADS 

couldn't  imagine.  They  did  not  have  a  single  article  of 
furniture  in  their  room  when  I — when  Mr.  Marvel  first 
found  them.  It  had  all  gone  to  the  Loan  Company — 
they  were  starving." 

John  Marvel  had  a  nose  like  a  pointer  for  all  who 
were  desolate  and  oppressed.  How  he  discovered  them, 
except,  as  Eleanor  Leigh  said,  by  some  sort  of  a  sixth 
sense  like  that  of  the  homing  pigeon,  surpasses  my 
comprehension.  It  is  enough  that  he  found  and  fur 
rowed  them  out.  Thus,  he  had  learned  that  a  little 
girl,  a  child  of  a  noted  criminal,  had  been  ill-treated  by 
the  children  at  a  public  school  and  that  her  mother  and 
herself  were  almost  starving,  and  had  hastened  at  once 
to  find  her.  Like  a  hunted  animal  she  had  gone  and 
hidden  herself  in  what  was  scarcely  better  than  a  den. 
Here  John  Marvel  found  her,  in  a  wretched  cellar,  the 
mother  ill  on  a  pallet  of  straw,  and  both  starving, 
without  food  or  fire.  The  door  was  barred,  as  was 
her  heart,  and  it  was  long  before  any  answer  came  to 
the  oft-repeated  knock.  But  at  last  his  patience  was 
rewarded.  The  door  opened  a  bare  inch,  and  a  fierce 
black  eye  in  a  haggard  white  face  peered  at  him  through 
the  chink. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"To  help  you." 

The  door  opened  slowly  and  John  Marvel  entered 
an  abode  which  he  said  to  me  afterward  he  was  glad  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  to  be  so  near-sighted  as  not  to  be 
able  to  see.  A  pallet  of  rags  lay  in  a  corner,  and  on  a 
box  crouched,  rather  than  sat,  a  little  girl  with  a  broken 

323 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

crutch  by  her  side,  her  eyes  fastened  on  the  newcomer 
with  a  gaze  of  half  bewilderment.  It  was  some  time  be 
fore  John  Marvel  could  get  anything  out  of  the  woman, 
but  he  held  a  key  which  at  last  unlocks  every  heart, — 
a  divine  and  penetrating  sympathy.  And  presently  the 
woman  told  him  her  story.  Her  husband  was  a  fugi 
tive  from  justice.  She  did  not  say  so,  but  only  that  he 
had  had  to  leave  the  city  because  the  police  were  after 
him.  His  friends  had  turned  against  him  and  against 
her.  She  did  not  know  where  her  husband  was,  but  be 
lieved  he  had  left  the  country,  unless,  indeed,  he  were 
dead.  She  was  waiting  to  hear  from  him,  and  mean 
time  everything  which  she  had  had  gone,  and  now, 
though  she  did  not  say  so,  they  were  starving.  To 
relieve  them  was  as  instinctive  with  John  Marvel  as  to 
breathe.  The  next  step  was  to  help  them  permanently. 
It  was  hard  to  do,  because  the  woman  was  at  bay  and 
was  as  suspicious  as  a  she-wolf,  and  the  child  was  as 
secretive  as  a  young  cub.  John  turned  to  one,  how 
ever,  who  he  believed,  and  with  good  reason,  knew  how 
to  do  things  which  were  lost  to  his  dull  comprehension. 
The  following  day  into  that  den  walked  Eleanor 
Leigh,  and  it  was  to  visit  this  woman  and  her  child  that 
she  was  going  the  morning  I  met  her  coming  down  the 
steps,  when  she  dropped  her  violets  on  the  sidewalk. 
It  was  a  hard  task  which  John  Marvel  had  set  her,  for 
as  some  women  may  yield  to  women  rather  than  to 
men,  so  there  are  some  who  are  harder  to  reach  by  the 
former  than  by  the  latter,  and  the  lot  of  Red  Talman's 
wife  had  separated  her  from  her  sex  and  turned  her 

324 


FATE  LEADS 

into  a  state  where  she  felt  that  all  women  were  against 
her.  But  Eleanor  Leigh  was  equal  to  the  task;  having 
gained  admission  through  the  open  sesame  of  John 
Marvel's  name  she  first  applied  herself  to  win  the  child. 
Seating  herself  on  the  box  she  began  to  play  with  the 
little  girl  and  to  show  her  the  toys  she  had  brought, — 
toys  which  the  child  had  never  seen  before.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  little  thing  was  in  her  lap  and  then  the 
woman  had  been  won.  When  Eleanor  Leigh  came 
away  everything  had  been  arranged,  and  the  following 
night  Red  Talman's  wife  and  child  moved  to  another 
quarter  of  the  town,  to  a  clean  little  room  not  far  from  the 
small  school  on  the  way  to  which  I  first  met  the  little  waif. 

"But  you  don't  go  into  such  places  by  yourself? 
I  said  to  her  when  she  had  told  me  their  story.  "Why, 
it  might  cost  you  your  life." 

"Oh,  no!  No  one  is  going  to  trouble  me.  I  am  not 
afraid." 

"Well,  it  is  not  safe,"  I  protested.  "I  wish  you 
wouldn't  do  it."  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  ven 
tured  to  assume  such  an  attitude  toward  her.  "I  don't 
care  how  brave  you  are,  it  is  not  safe." 

"Oh!  I  am  not  brave  at  all.  In  fact,  I  am  an  awful 
coward.  I  am  afraid  of  mice  and  all  such  ferocious 
beasts — and  as  to  a  spider — why,  little  Miss  Muffet 
was  a  heroine  to  me." 

"I  know,"  I  nodded,  watching  the  play  of  expression 
in  her  eyes  with  secret  delight. 

"But  I  am  not  afraid  of  people.  They  are  about  the 
only  things  I  am  not  afraid  of.  They  appear  to  me  so 

325 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

pitiful  in  their  efforts.  Why  should  one  fear  them? 
Besides,  I  don't  think  about  myself  when  I  am  doing 
anything — only  about  what  I  am  doing." 

"What  is  the  name  of  your  little  prote'ge'e's  father— 
the  criminal  ? "  I  asked. 

"Talman—  they  call  him  'Red  Talman.'  He's  quite 
noted,  I  believe." 

"'Red  Talman!'  Why,  he  is  one  of  the  most  noted 
criminals  in  the  country.  I  remember  reading  of  his 
escape  some  time  ago.  He  was  in  for  a  long  term.  It 
was  said  no  prison  could  hold  him." 

"Yes,  he  has  escaped,"  she  said  demurely. 

I  once  more  began  to  protest  against  her  going  about 
such  places  by  herself  as  she  had  described,  but  she 
only  laughed  at  me  for  my  earnestness.  She  had  also 
been  to  see  the  Miss  Tippses,  she  said,  and  she  gave  an 
amusing  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  pathetic  account  of 
Miss  Pansy's  brave  attempt  to  cover  up  their  poverty. 

"It  is  hard  to  do  anything  for  them.  One  can  help 
the  Talmans;  but  it  is  almost  impossible  to  help  the 
decayed  gentlefolk.  One  has  to  be  so  careful  not  to 
appear  to  know  her  pathetic  little  deceits,  and  I  find 
myself  bowing  and  accepting  all  her  little  devices  and 
transparent  deceptions  of  how  comfortable  they  are, 
when  I  know  that  maybe  she  may  be  faint  with  hunger 
at  that  very  time." 

I  wondered  if  she  knew  their  story.  But  she  suddenly 
said: 

"Tell  me  about  their  case.     I  do  trust  you   can 


326 


FATE  LEADS 

I  was  only  too  ready  to  tell  her  anything.  So,  as 
we  walked  along  I  told  her  all  I  knew  or  nearly 
all. 

"Oh!  you  must  win  it!  To  think  that  such  robbery 
can  be  committed !  There  must  be  some  redress !  Who 
were  the  wretches  who  robbed  them?  They  ought  to 
be  shown  up  if  they  were  in  their  graves !  I  hate  to  know 
things  and  not  know  the  person  who  committed  them." 
As  she  turned  to  me  with  flashing  eyes,  I  felt  a  great 
desire  to  tell  her  but  how  could  I  do  so  ? 

"  Tell  me.    Do  you  know  them  ?  " 

"Yes— some  of  them." 

"Well,  tell  me  their  names." 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  know  ?  "  I  hesitated. 

"Because  I  do.    Isn't  that  sufficient?" 

I  wanted  to  say  yes,  but  still  I  hesitated. 

"Was  it  anybody— I  know?" 

"Why " 

"I  must  know."  Her  eyes  were  on  my  face  and  I 
yielded. 

"Mr.  Argand  was  one  of  the  Directors — in  fact,  was 
the  president  of  the  road — but  I  have  no  direct  proof — 

yet." 

"Do  you  mean  my  aunt's  husband?" 

I  nodded. 

She  turned  her  face  away. 

"I  ought  not  to  have  told  you,"  I  added. 

"Oh!  yes,  you  ought.  I  would  have  wanted  to  know 
if  it  had  been  my  father.  I  have  the  dearest  father  in 
the  world.  You  do  not  know  how  good  and  kind  he  is, 

327 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  how  generous  to  every  one.  He  has  almost  ruined 
himself  working  for  others." 

I  said  I  had  no  doubt  he  was  all  she  said;  but  my 
heart  sank  as  I  recalled  my  part  in  the  paper  I  had 
written  about  him.  I  knew  I  must  tell  her  some  time, 
but  I  hesitated  to  do  it  now.  I  began  to  talk  about 
myself,  a  subject  I  am  rather  fond  of,  but  on  this  occa 
sion  I  had  possibly  more  excuse  than  usual. 

"My  mother  also  died  when  I  was  a  child,"  she 
said,  sighing,  as  I  related  the  loss  of  mine  and  said  that 
I  was  just  beginning  to  realize  what  it  was.  It  appeared 
to  draw  us  nearer  together.  I  was  conscious  of  her 
sympathy,  and  under  its  influence  I  went  on  and  told 
her  the  wretched  story  of  my  life,  my  folly  and  my 
failure,  and  my  final  resolve  to  begin  anew  and  be 
something  worth  while.  I  did  not  spare  myself  and  I 
made  no  concealments.  I  felt  her  sympathy  and  it  was 
as  sweet  to  me  as  ever  was  grace  to  a  famished  soul.  I 
had  been  so  long  alone  that  it  seemed  to  unlock  Heaven. 

"I  believe  you  will  succeed,"  she  said,  turning  and 
looking  me  in  the  face. 

A  sudden  fire  sprang  into  my  brain  and  throbbed  in 
my  heart.  "If  you  will  say  that  to  me  and  mean  it, 
I  will." 

"  I  do  believe  it.  Of  course,  I  mean  it."  She  stopped 
and  looked  me  again  full  in  the  face,  and  her  eyes  seemed 
to  me  to  hold  the  depths  of  Heaven:  deep,  calm,  con 
fiding,  and  untroubled  as  a  child's.  They  stirred  me 
deeply.  Why  should  I  not  declare  myself!  She  was, 
since  her  father's  embarrassment,  of  which  I  had  read, 

328 


FATE  LEADS 

no  longer  beyond  my  reach.     Did  I  not  hold  the  future 
in  fee?    Why  might  not  I  win  her? 

For  some  time  we  drifted  along,  talking  about  noth 
ing  of  moment,  skirting  the  shore  of  the  charmed  un 
known,  deep  within  which  lay  the  mystery  of  that  which 
we  both  possibly  meant,  however  indefinitely,  to  ex 
plore.  Then  we  struck  a  little  further  in;  and  began 
to  exchange  experiences — first  our  early  impressions  of 
John  Marvel  and  Wolffert.  It  was  then  that  she  told 
me  of  her  coming  to  know  John  Marvel  in  the  country 
that  night  during  the  epidemic.  She  did  not  tell  of  her 
part  in  the  relief  of  the  sick;  but  it  was  unnecessary. 
John  Marvel  had  already  told  me  that.  It  was  John 
himself,  with  his  wonderful  unselfishness  and  gift  of 
self-abnegation,  of  whom  she  spoke,  and  Wolffert  with 
his  ideal  ever  kept  in  sight. 

"What  turned  you  to  philanthropy?"  I  asked  with  a 
shade  of  irony  in  my  voice  more  marked  than  I  had 
intended.  If  she  was  conscious  of  it  she  took  no  notice 
of  it  beyond  saying, 

"If  you  mean  the  poor,  pitiful  little  bit  of  work  I  do 
trying  to  help  Mr.  Marvel  and  Mr.  Wolffert  among  the 
poor — John  Marvel  did,  and  Mr.  Wolffert  made  the 
duty  clear.  They  are  the  complement  of  each  other, 
Jew  and  Gentile,  and  if  all  men  were  like  them  there 
would  be  no  divisions." 

I  expressed  my  wonder  that  she  should  have  kept  on, 
and  not  merely  contented  herself  with  giving  money  or 
helping  for  that  one  occasion.  Sudden  converts  gen 
erally  relapse. 

329 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Oh!  it  was  not  any  conversion.  It  gave  life  a  new 
interest  for  me.  I  was  bored  to  death  by  the  life  I  had 
been  leading  since  I  came  out.  It  was  one  continuous 
round  of  lunches,  dinners,  parties,  dances,  soire'es,  till 
I  felt  as  if  I  were  a  wooden  steed  in  a  merry-go-round, 
wound  up  and  wearing  out.  You  see  I  had ,  in  a  way, 
always  been  'out.'  I  used  to  go  about  with  my  father, 
and  sit  at  the  table  and  hear  him  and  his  friends — men 
friends— for  I  did  not  come  to  the  table  when  ladies 
were  there,  till  I  was  fifteen — talk  about  all  sorts  of 
things,  and  though  I  often  did  not  understand  them, 
I  used  to  ask  him  and  he  would  explain  them,  and  then 
I  read  up  and  worked  to  try  to  amuse  him,  so  that  when 
I  really  came  out,  I  found  the  set  in  which  I  was  thrown 
rather  young.  It  was  as  if  I  had  fallen  through  an 
opened  door  into  a  nursery.  I  was  very  priggish,  I  have 
no  doubt,  but  I  was  bored.  Jim  Canter  and  Milly 
McSheen  were  amusing  enough  for  a  while,  but  really 
they  were  rather  young.  I  was  fond  of  driving  and 
dancing,  but  I  did  not  want  to  talk  about  it  all  the  time, 
and  then  as  I  got  older " 

"How  old  ?"  I  demanded,  amused  at  her  idea  of  age. 

"Why,  eighteen.  How  old  do  you  think  I  should 
have  been?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know;  you  spoke  as  if  you  were  as 
old  as  Anna  in  the  temple.  Pray  go  on." 

"Well,  that's  all.  I  just  could  not  stand  it.  Aunt 
Sophie  was  bent  on  my  marrying — somebody  whom  I 
could  not  bear — and  oh !  it  was  an  awful  bore.  I  looked 
around  and  saw  the  society  women  I  was  supposed  to 

330 


FATE  LEADS 

copy,  and  I'd  rather  have  been  dead  than  like  that — 
eating,  clothes,  and  bridge — that  made  up  the  round, 
with  men  as  the  final  end  and  reward.  I  think  I  had 
hardly  taken  it  in,  till  my  eyes  were  opened  once  by  a 
man's  answer  to  a  question  as  to  who  had  been  in  the 
boxes  at  a  great  concert  which  he  had  attended  and 
enjoyed:  'Oh!  I  don't  know — the  usual  sort — women 
who  go  to  be  seen  with  other  women's  husbands.  The 
musical  people  were  in  the  gallery  listening.'  Next 
time  I  went  my  eyes  had  been  opened  and  I  lis 
tened  and  enjoyed  the  music.  So,  when  I  discovered 
there  were  real  men  in  the  world  doing  things,  and 
really  something  that  women  could  do,  too,  I  found 
that  life  had  a  new  interest,  that  is  all." 

"You  know,"  she  said,  after  a  pause  in  which  she 
was  reflecting  and  I  was  watching  the  play  of  expression 
in  her  face  and  dwelling  in  delicious  reverie  on  the 
contour  of  her  soft  cheek,  "You  know,  if  I  ever 
amount  to  anything  in  this  world,  it  will  be  due  to  that 
man."  This  might  have  meant  either. 

I  thought  I  knew  of  a  better  artificer  than  even  John 
Marvel  or  Leo  Wolffert,  to  whom  was  due  all  the  light 
that  was  shed  from  her  life,  but  I  did  not  wish  to 
question  anything  she  said  of  old  John.  I  was  begin 
ning  to  feel  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 

We  were  dawdling  along  now  and  I  remember  we 
stopped  for  a  moment  in  front  of  a  place  somewhat 
more  striking  looking  and  better  lighted  than  those 
about  it,  something  between  a  pawnbroker's  shop  and 
a  loan-office.  The  sign  over  the  door  was  of  a  Guar- 

331 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

anty  Loan  Company,  and  added  the  word  "Home"  to 
Guaranty.  It  caught  my  eye  and  hers  at  the  same 
moment.  The  name  was  that  of  the  robber-company 
in  which  my  poor  client,  McNeil,  in  his  futile  effort  to 
pay  his  rent,  had  secured  a  small  loan  by  a  chattel- 
mortgage  on  his  pitiful  little  furniture  at  something  like 
three  hundred  per  cent.  The  entire  block  belonged,  as 
I  had  learned  at  the  time,  to  the  Argand  Estate,  and 
I  had  made  it  one  of  the  points  in  my  arraignment  of 
that  eleemosynary  institution  that  the  estate  harbored 
such  vampires  as  the  two  men  who  conducted  this 
scoundrelly  business  in  the  very  teeth  of  the  law.  On 
the  windows  were  painted  legends  suggesting  that  within 
all  money  needed  by  any  one  might  be  gotten,  one  might 
have  supposed,  for  nothing.  I  said,  "With  such  a  sign 
as  that  we  might  imagine  that  the  poor  need  never 
want  for  money." 

She  suddenly  flamed :  "  I  know  them.  They  are  the 
greatest  robbers  on  earth.  They  grind  the  face  of  the 
Poor  until  one  wonders  that  the  earth  does  not  open 
and  swallow  them  up  quick.  They  are  the  thieves  who 
ought  to  be  in  jail  instead  of  such  criminals  as  even 
that  poor  wretch,  Talman,  as  great  a  criminal  as  he  is. 
Why,  they  robbed  his  poor  wife  of  every  stick  of  furni 
ture  she  had  on  earth,  under  guise  of  a  loan,  and  turned 
her  out  in  the  snow  with  her  crippled  child.  She  was 
afraid  to  apply  to  any  one  for  redress,  and  they  knew  it. 
And  if  it  had  not  been  for  John  Marvel,  they  would 
have  starved  or  have  frozen  to  death." 

"For  John  Marvel  and  you,"  I  interjected. 
332 


FATE  LEADS 

"No — only  him.  What  I  did  was  nothing— less  than 
nothing.  He  found  them,  with  that  wonderful  sixth 
sense  of  his.  It  is  his  heart.  And  he  gets  no  credit  for 
anything — even  from  you.  Oh!  sometimes  I  cannot 
bear  it.  I  would  like  to  go  to  him  once  and  just  tell  him 
what  I  truly  think  of  him." 

"Why  don't  you,  then?" 

"  Because — I  cannot.  But  if  I  were  you,  I  would. 
He  would  not — want  me  to  do  it!  But  some  day 
I  am  going  to  Dr.  Capon  and  tell  him — tell  him  the 
truth." 

She  turned,  facing  me,  and  stood  with  clenched 
hands,  uplifted  face,  and  flashing  eyes — breasting  the 
wind  which,  at  the  moment,  blew  her  skirts  behind 
her,  and  as  she  poured  forth  her  challenge,  she  ap 
peared  to  me  almost  like  some  animate  statue  of 
victory. 

"Do  you  know— I  think  Mr.  Marvel  and  Mr.  Wolf- 
fert  are  almost  the  most  Christian  men  I  ever  saw;  and 
their  life  is  the  strongest  argument  in  favor  of  Chris 
tianity,  I  ever  knew." 

"Why,  Wolffert  is  a  Jew — he  is  not  a  Christian  at 
all." 

"He  is — I  only  wish  I  were  half  as  good  a  one,"  she 
said.  "  I  do  not  care  what  he  calls  himself,  he  is.  Why, 
think  of  him  beside  Doctor— beside  some  of  those  who 
set  up  to  be  burning  and  shining  lights!" 

"Well,  I  will  agree  to  that."  In  fact,  I  agreed  with 
everything  she  had  said,  though  I  confess  to  a  pang  of 
jealousy  at  such  unstinted  praise,  as  just  as  I  thought 

333 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

it.  And  I  began  in  my  selfishness  to  wish  I  were  more 
like  either  of  her  two  models.  As  we  stood  in  the  wan 
ing  light — for  we  were  almost  standing,  we  moved  so 
slowly — my  resolution  took  form. 

It  was  not  a  propitious  place  for  what  I  suddenly 
resolved  to  do.  It  was  certainly  not  a  romantic  spot. 
For  it  was  in  the  centre,  the  very  heart,  of  a  mean 
shopping  district,  a  region  of  small  shops  and  poor 
houses,  and  the  autumn  wind  had  risen  with  an  edge 
on  it  and  laden  with  dust,  which  made  the  thinly  clad 
poor  quicken  their  steps  as  they  passed  along  and  try 
to  shrink  closer  within  their  threadbare  raiment.  The 
lights  which  were  beginning  to  appear  only  added  to 
the  appearance  of  squalor  about  us.  But  like  the  soft 
Gallius  I  cared  for  none  of  these  things.  I  saw  only  the 
girl  beside  me,  wh^se  awakened  soul  seemed  to  me 
even  more  beautiful  than  her  beautiful  frame.  And  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  we  might  have  been  in  Paradise 
or  in  a  desert. 

I  recall  the  scene  as  if  it  were  yesterday,  the  very 
softness  in  her  face,  the  delicacy  of  her  contour;  the 
movement  of  her  soft  hair  on  her  blue-veined  white 
temple  and  her  round  neck  as  a  gentle  breath  of  air 
stirred  it;  the  dreamy  depths  of  her  eyes  as  the  smile 
faded  in  them  and  she  relapsed  into  a  reverie.  An  im 
pulse  seized  me  and  I  cast  prudence,  wisdom,  reason, 
all  to  the  winds  and  gave  the  rein  to  my  heart. 

"Come  here."  I  took  her  arm  and  drew  her  a  few 
steps  beyond  to  where  there  was  a  vacant  house.  "Sit 
down  here  a  moment."  I  spread  my  handkerchief  on 

334 


FATE  LEADS 

the  dusty  steps,  and  she  sat  down,  smiling  after  her 
little  outbreak. 

Leaning  over  her,  I  took  hold  of  her  hand  and  lifted 
it  to  my  breast,  clasping  it  very  tight. 

"Look  at  me — "  She  had  already  looked  in  vague 
I  wonder,  her  eyes  wide  open,  beginning  the  question 
which  her  lips  were  parting  to  frame.  "Don't  say  that 
to  me — that  about  your  belief  in  me — unless  you  mean 
it  all — all.  I  love  you  and  I  mean  to  succeed  for  you — 
with  you.  I  mean  to  marry  you — some  day." 

The  look  in  her  eyes  changed,  but  for  a  second  they 
did  not  leave  my  face.  My  eyes  were  holding  them. 

" Oh  1— What?"  she  gasped,  while  her  hand  went 
up  to  her  throat. 

Then  she  firmly,  but  as  I  afterward  recalled,  slowly 
withdrew  her  hand  from  my  grasp,  which  made  no 
attempt  to  detain  it. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  she  gasped.  And  I  truly  believe 
she  thought  I  was. 

"Yes — no — I  don't  know.  If  I  am,  my  insanity 
begins  and  ends  only  in  you.  I  know  only  one  thing — 
that  I  love  you  and  that  some  day — some  day,  I  am 
going  to  marry  you,  though  the  whole  world  and  your 
self  oppose  me." 

She  stood  up. 

"But,  oh!  why  did  you  say  that?" 

"Because  it  is  true." 

"We  were  such  good 'friends." 

"We  never  were — I  never  was — for  a  moment." 

"You  were." 

335 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Never." 

"We  were  just  beginning  to  understand  each  other, 
to  be  such  good  friends,  and  now  you  have  ended  it  all." 

"That  cannot  be  ended  which  never  had  a  begin 
ning.  I  don't  want  your  friendship;  I  want  your  love 
and  I  will  have  it." 

"No,  I  cannot.    Oh!  why  did  you?  I  must  be  going." 

"Why?   Sit  down." 

"No,  I  cannot.    Good-by." 

"Good-by." 

She  hesitated,  and  then  without  looking,  held  out 
her  hand.  "Good-by." 

I  took  her  hand  and  this  time  kissed  it,  as  I  remem 
ber,  almost  fiercely.  She  tried  to  stop  me,  but  I  held  it 
firmly. 

"You  must  not  do  that;  you  have  no  right."  She 
was  standing  very  straight  now. 

"I  took  the  right." 

"Promise  me  you  will  never  say  that  again." 

"What?" 

"What  you  said  at  first." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  I  have  been  saying 
the  same  thing  all  the  time — ever  since  I  knew  you — 
ever  since  I  was  born — that  I  love  you." 

"You  must  never  say  that  again — promise  me  before 
I  go." 

"I  promise  you,"  I  said  slowly,  "that  I  will  say  it  as 
long  as  I  live." 

She  appeared  to  let  herself  drift  for  a  half  second, 
then  she  gave  a  little  catch  at  herself. 

336 


FATE  LEADS 

"No,  really,  you  must  not — I  cannot  allow  you. 
I  have  no  right  to  let  you.  I  must  go,  and  if  you  are 
a  friend  of  mine,  you  will  never — 

" Listen  to  me,"  I  interrupted  firmly.  "I  have  not 
asked  you  for  anything;  I  have  not  asked  your  per 
mission;  I  am  not  a  friend  of  yours  and  I  shall  never 
be  that.  I  don't  want  to  be  your  friend.  I  love  you, 
and  I  am  going  to  win  your  love.  Now  you  can  go 
Come  on." 

We  walked  on  and  I  saw  her  safely  home.  We  talked 
about  everything  and  I  told  her  much  of  myself.  But 
she  was  plainly  thinking  not  about  what  I  was  saying 
then,  but  what  I  had  said  on  the  dusty  steps.  When 
we  reached  her  home,  I  saved  her  embarrassment. 
I  held  out  my  hand  and  said,  "Good-by,  I  love  you." 

No  woman  can  quite  let  a  man  go,  at  least,  no  woman 
with  a  woman's  coquetry  can.  After  I  had  turned 
away,  what  must  Eleanor  Leigh  do  but  say  demurely, 
"I  hope  you  will  win  your  case."  I  turned  back,  of 
course.  "I  will,"  I  said,  "in  both  courts."  Then  I 
strode  away.  I  went  home  feeling  somewhat  as  a  man 
might  who,  after  shipwreck,  had  reached  an  unknown 
shore.  I  was  in  a  new  land  and  knew  not  where  I  stood 
or  how;  or  whether  the  issue  would  be  life  or  death. 
I  only  knew  that  I  had  passed  a  crisis  in  my  life  and 
whatever  came  I  must  meet  it.  I  was  strangely  happy, 
yet  I  had  had  no  word  of  encouragement. 

To  have  declared  one's  love  has  this  in  it,  that  hence 
forth  the  one  you  love  can  never  be  wholly  indifferent 
to  you.  I  went  home  feeling  that  I  had  acquired  a  new 

337 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

relation  to  Eleanor  Leigh  and  that  somehow  I  had  a 
right  to  her  whether  she  consented  or  not.  My  love  for 
her,  as  ardent  as  it  had  been  before,  had  suddenly 
deepened.  It  had,  in  a  way,  also  become  purer.  I  went 
over  and  over  and  dwelt  on  every  word  she  had  ever 
uttered  to  me,  every  gentle  look  I  had  ever  seen  her 
give,  every  tender  expression  that  had  illumined  her 
face  or  softened  her  eyes,  and  I  found  myself  thinking  of 
her  character  as  I  had  never  done  before.  I  planned 
how  I  should  meet  her  next  and  tried  to  fancy  how  she 
would  look  and  what  she  would  say.  I  wondered 
vaguely  what  she  would  think  of  me  when  she  reached 
her  room  and  thought  over  what  I  had  said.  But  I 
soon  left  this  realm  of  vague  conjecture  for  the  clearly 
defined  elysium  of  my  own  love.  Had  I  known  what 
I  learned  only  a  long  time  afterward — how  she  acted 
and  what  she  thought  of  on  reaching  home,  I  might 
have  been  somewhat  consoled  though  still  mystified. 


338 


XXVI 

COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

It  is  astonishing  what  a  motive  power  love  is.  With 
Eleanor  Leigh  in  my  heart,  I  went  to  work  on  my 
Tipps  case  with  fury. 

When  I  applied  at  the  offices  of  the  P.  D.  &  B.  D. 
and  asked  to  be  shown  the  books  of  the  old  company 
which  had  been  reorganized  and  absorbed,  I  was  met 
first  by  the  polite  assurance  that  there  never  was  such 
a  road  as  I  mentioned,  then  that  it  had  been  wound  up 
long  ago  and  reorganized.  Next,  as  I  appeared  some 
what  firm,  I  was  informed  that  the  books  had  been 
burned  up  in  a  great  fire,  spoken  of  as  Caleb  Balderstone 
used  to  speak  of  the  Ravenswood  fire,  as  "the  fire." 
This  would  have  been  an  irremediable  loss,  but  for  the 
fact  that  I  knew  that  there  had  been  no  fire  since  the 
reorganization  of  the  company.  I  stated  this  fact  with 
more  positiveness  than  was  usually  employed  in  those 
offices  and  announced  that  unless  those  books  were 
produced  without  further  delay  or  misrepresentation, 
I  would  file  a  bill  at  once  which  would  open  the  eyes  of 
a  number  of  persons.  This  procured  for  me  an  inter 
view  with  an  official  of  the  vice-presidential  rank — my 
first  real  advance.  This  proved  to  be  my  old  acquaint 
ance,  Mr.  Gillis,  the  agent  of  the  Argand  Estate.  When 
I  entered  he  wore  an  expression  of  sweet  content  as  of 

339 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

a  cat  about  to  swallow  a  mouse.  It  was  evident  that 
he  meant  to  have  his  revenge  on  me  now.  After  stating 
my  object  in  calling,  with  so  much  circumstantiality 
that  there  could  be  no  mistake  about  it,  I  was  informed 
by  Mr.  Gillis,  briefly  but  firmly,  that  those  books  were 
not  accessible,  that  they  were  "  private  property  and  not 
open  to  the  public." 

Stillman  Gillis  was  a  wiry,  clear-eyed,  firm-mouthed, 
middle-sized  man  of  about  middle  age  as  older  men 
regard  it.  He  had  a  pleasant  address,  perfect  self- 
assurance,  and  a  certain  cool  impudence  in  his  manner 
which  I  have  often  observed  in  the  high  officials  of  large 
corporations.  He  had,  I  knew,  been  the  private  secre 
tary  and  confidential  man  of  Mr.  David  Argand. 

"I  am  aware  that  the  books  are  private  property," 
I  said,  "but  it  happens  that  I  am  myself  one  of  the 
owners — I  represent  two  very  considerable  owners  of 
the  stock  of  the  old  company." 

He  shook  his  head  pleasantly.  "That  makes  no 
difference." 

I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  turnkey  at  the  jail. 
It  was  insolence,  but  only  of  a  different  sort. 

"You  mean  to  say  that  it  makes  no  difference  whether 
or  not  I  am  a  stockholder  when  I  demand  to  see  the 
books  of  the  company  in  which  I  hold  my  interest?" 

"Not  the  slightest,"  he  admitted. 

"I  suppose  you  have  consulted  counsel  as  to  this?" 

"Oh!  yes;   but  it  was  not  necessary." 

"Well!  you  have  the  books?" 

"Oh!  yes." 

340 


COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

"  Because  some  of  your  people  told  me  that  they  had 
been  burnt  up  in  a  fire." 

"Did  they  tell  you  that?"  he  smilingly  asked. 
"They  did  that  to  save  you  trouble." 

"Considerate  in  them." 

"Of  course,  we  have  the  books — in  our  vaults." 

"Buried?"  I  hazarded. 

He  nodded.  "Beyond  the  hope  of  resurrection." 
He  took  up  his  pen  to  show  that  the  interview  was  ended; 
and  I  took  up  my  hat. 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  who  your  counsel  is  that 
you  consulted  in  these  matters?  I  might  prevail  on 
him  to  change  his  mind." 

"Oh!  no.  Mr.  Collis  McSheen  is  our  counsel — one 
of  them." 

"Has  he  specifically  given  you  this  advice?" 

"He  has."  He  turned  to  his  stenographer.  "Take 
this  letter." 

"So — o."  I  reflected  a  moment  and  then  tilted  back 
my  chair. 

"Mr.  Gillis — one  moment  more  of  your  valuable 
time,  and  I  will  relieve  you." 

"Well?"  He  turned  back  to  me  with  a  sudden 
spark  in  his  gray  eye.  "  Really,  I  have  no  more  time  to 
give  you." 

"  Just  a  moment.  You  are  mistaken  in  thinking  you 
are  giving  me  time.  I  have  been  giving  you  time.  The 
next  time  we  meet,  you  will  be  a  witness  in  court  under 
subpoena  and  I  will  examine  you." 

"Examine  me?  As  to  what,  pray?"  His  face  had 
341 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

grown  suddenly  dark  and  his  insolence  had  turned  to 
anger. 

"As  to  what  you  know  of  the  fraud  that  was  perpe 
trated  on  the  heirs  of  a  certain  Colonel  Tipps  who  built 
and  once  largely  owned  the  road  I  have  spoken  of." 

"Fraud,  sir!    What  do  you  mean?" 

"As  to  what  you  know — if  anything — of  the  arrange 
ment  by  which  a  certain  Collis  McSheen  sold  out  his 
clients,  the  said  heirs  of  the  said  Colonel  Tipps,  to 
a  certain  Mr.  Argand,  whose  private  secretary  you 
then  were;  and  whose  retained  counsel  he  then  be 
came." 

"What!" 

His  affected  coolness  was  all  gone.  His  countenance 
was  black  with  a  storm  of  passion,  where  wonder, 
astonishment,  rage,  all  played  their  part,  and  I  thought 
I  saw  a  trace  of  dismay  as  well. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir!  What  do  I  know  of  the — 
the  fraud — the  arrangements,  if  there  ever  were  any 
such  arrangements  as  those  you  speak  of  ? " 

I  was  the  insolent  one  now.    I  bowed. 

"That  is  what  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  tell  in  court. 
You  have  the  books,  and  you  will  bring  them  with  you 
when  you  come,  under  a  subpoena  duces  tecum.  Good- 
day."  I  walked  out. 

As  I  approached  my  office,  I  saw  Collis  McSheen 
bolting  out  of  the  door  and  down  the  street,  his  face  as 
black  as  a  thunder-cloud.  He  was  in  such  a  hurry  that 
he  did  not  see  me,  though  he  nearly  ran  over  me.  He 
had  evidently  been  summoned  by  telephone. 

342 


COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

I  was  working  on  my  bill  a  few  days  later  when  to  my 
surprise  Peck  walked  into  my  office.  I  knew  instantly 
that  there  was  mischief  afoot.  He  looked  unusually 
smug.  He  had  just  arrived  that  morning,  he  said. 
Mr.  Poole  had  some  important  interests  in  a  railway 
property  which  required  looking  after,  and  he  had  come 
on  to  see  about  them.  There  was  not  much  to  do,  as 
the  road  was  being  capitally  managed;  but  they  thought 
best  to  have  some  one  on  the  ground  to  keep  an  eye  on 
the  property,  and  remembering  our  old  friendship,  he 
had  suggested  that  I  be  retained  to  represent  Mr.  Poole, 
if  anything  should  at  any  time  arise,  and  Mr.  Poole 
had,  of  course,  acted  on  his  advice.  Mr.  Poole  had  in 
fact,  always  been  such  a  friend  of  mine,  etc.  The 
trouble  with  Peck  was  that  he  always  played  a  trump 
even  when  it  was  not  necessary. 

I  expressed  my  sense  of  obligation  to  both  him  and 
Mr.  Poole,  but  in  my  heart  could  not  help  recalling  the 
chances  Mr.  Poole  had  thrown  away  to  help  me  in  the 
past. 

"What  sort  of  interests  are  they?"  I  inquired. 

"  Railway  interests.  He  has  both  stocks  and  bonds — 
second  mortgage  bonds.  But  they  are  as  good  as  gold 
— pay  dividends  straight  along.  The  railway  has  never 
failed  to  increase  its  net  earnings  every  year  for  ten 
years,  and  is  a  very  important  link  in  a  transcontinental 
line." 

"What  railway  did  you  say  it  was?"  I  inquired,  for 
I  had  observed  that  he  had  not  mentioned  the  line. 

"Oh!  ah!  the  P.  D.  &  B.  D." 
343 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Oh!  Well,  the  fact  is,  Peck,  I  don't  know  that  I 
could  represent  Mr.  Poole  in  any  litigation  connected 
with  that  road." 

"Oh!  it  is  not  litigation,  my  dear  fellow.  You'd  as 
well  talk  about  litigation  over  the  Bank  of  England. 
It  is  to  represent  him  as  a  sort  of  regular " 

"I  know,"  I  cut  him  short,  "but  I  think  there  will 
be  some  litigation.  The  fact  is,  I  have  a  claim  against 
that  road." 

"A  claim  against  the  P.  D.  &  B.  D.!  For  damages, 
I  suppose?" 

"No.  To  upset  the  reorganization  that  took 
place " 

Peck  burst  out  laughing.  "To  upset  the  reorganiza 
tion  of  that  road  which  took  place  ten — twenty —  How 
many  years  ago  was  it  ?  You'd  better  try  to  upset  the 
government  of  the  United  States." 

"Oh!    No " 

"Come  now.  Don't  be  Quixotic.  I've  come  here  to 
give  you  a  good  case  that  may  be  the  beginning  of  a 
great  practice  for  you.  Why  you  may  become  general 
counsel." 

"I  thought  Mr.  McSheen  was  general  counsel  ?  You 
said  so,  I  remember,  when  you  were  here  before." 

"Why,  ah!  yes.  He  is  in  a  way.  You  would,  of 
course,  be — in  a  way,  his — ah " 

"Peck,"  I  said,  and  I  kept  my  eye  on  him  blandly. 
"Have  you  seen  Mr.  McSheen  since  your  arrival?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  have.     I  had  to  see  him,  of  course, 

because  he  is,  as  I  told  you,  the  general  counsel " 

344 


COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

'In  a  way?"  I  interpolated. 

"Yes.  And  of  course  I  had  to  see  him.  It  would  not 
have  been  quite  professional  if  I  had  not." 

"And  he  assents  to  your  proposition?" 

"Oh!  yes,  entirely.  In  fact,  he — "  He  paused  and 
then  added,  "  is  entirely  satisfied.  He  says  you  are  an 
excellent  lawyer." 

"Much  obliged  to  him.  I  beat  him  in  the  only  case 
I  ever  had  against  him." 

"What  was  that?" 

"Oh,  a  small  case  against  the  Argand  Estate." 

"Oh!  Well  now,  Glave,  don't  be  Quixotic.  Here  is 
the  chance  of  your  life.  All  the  big  people — the  Argand 
Estate,  Mr.  Leigh,  Mr.  McSheen,  Mr.  Canter.  Why, 
it  may  lead  you — no  one  can  tell  where!" 

"That  is  true,"  I  said,  quietly.  Then  quite  as  quietly 
I  asked:  "Did  Mr.  McSheen  send  for  you  to  come  on 
here?" 

"Did  Mr.  McSheen  send  for  me  to  come  on  here? 
Why,  no.  Of  course,  he  did  not.  I  came  on  to  look 
after  Mr.  Poole's  interest." 

"And  to  employ  me  to  represent  him  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  to  give  up  my  clients  as  McSheen  did?" 

"What!" 

"Peck,  tell  Mr.  McSheen  that  neither  my  dog  nor 
myself  is  for  sale." 

"What!    I — I  don't  understand,"  stammered  Peck. 

"Well,  maybe  so.  But  you  give  McSheen  themes- 
sage.  He  will  understand  it.  And  now  I  will  explain 

345 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

it  to  you,  so  you  may  understand."  I  explained  briefly 
to  him  my  connection  with  the  matter  and  my  proposed 
line  of  action;  and  he  naturally  endeavored  to  satisfy 
me  as  to  the  absolute  futility  of  such  a  course  as  I  pro 
posed. 

"Why,  consider,"  he  said,  "the  people  you  will  have 
to  contend  with — the  idea  that  you  can  prove  fraud 
against  such  persons  as  Mr.  Leigh,  the  Argands,  Mr. 
McSheen." 

"I  don't  expect  to  prove  fraud  on  Mr.  Leigh,"  I 
quickly  interposed. 

"You  will  have  to  sue  him.    He  is  a  director." 

"I  know  it.  But  he  came  in  after  the  transaction 
was  completed  and  I  believe  knew  nothing  about  it, 
and  he  has  left  the  directory.  But  why  are  you  so  in 
terested  in  Mr.  Leigh?  His  interests  in  the  street-car 
lines  are  directly  opposed  to  Mr.  Poolers?" 

"  I  am  not  interested  in  Mr.  Leigh,  but  in  you.  Why, 
do  you  imagine  any  judge  in  this  city  would  even  con 
sider  a  bill  charging  fraud  against  such  persons  as  those 
I  have  mentioned  ?  For  I  tell  you  they  will  not.  You 
will  just  make  a  lot  of  enemies  and  have  your  trouble 
for  your  pains." 

"Perhaps  so — but  Peck,  you  have  not  mentioned  all 
the  people  I  shall  fiave  to  sue." 

"Who  do  you  mean ?  I  have  only  mentioned  one  or 
two." 

"Mr.  Poole." 

Peck's  countenance  fell. 

"Mr.  Poole!    What  did  he  have  to  do  with  it?" 
346 


COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

"He  was  one  of  them — one  of  those  who  engineered 
the  reorganization — and  swin —  engineered  the  heirs  of 
Colonel  Tipps  and  some  others  out  of  their  interest. 
Well,  give  my  message  to  Mr.  McSheen,"  I  said,  rising, 
for  Peck's  duplicity  came  over  me  like  a  wave.  "You 
may  understand  it  better  now.  Neither  my  dog  nor 
I  is  for  sale.  Peck,  you  ought  to  know  me  better." 

Peck  left  with  that  look  on  his  face  that  used  to 
annoy  me  so  at  college — something  that  I  can  best 
describe  as  a  mechanical  simper.  It  had  no  warmth 
in  it  and  was  the  twilight  between  indifference  and 
hate. 

Peck  evidently  conveyed  my  message. 

While  I  worked  on  my  case,  Mr.  McSheen  was  not 
idle.  Not  long  after,  I  was  walking  along  a  narrow, 
dark  street  on  my  way  home  from  my  office  late  one 
night  when  I  was  struck  by  Dix's  conduct.  It  was  very 
strange.  Instead  of  trotting  along  zigzag  going  from 
corner  to  corner  and  inspecting  alleyways  for  chance 
cats  to  enliven  life,  as  he  usually  did  at  night  when  the 
streets  were  fairly  empty,  he  kept  close  at  my  heels,  now 
and  then  actually  rubbing  against  my  knee  as  he  walked, 
as  he  did  in  the  crowded  section  when  I  took  him  along. 
And  once  or  twice  he  stopped  and,  half  turning  his  head, 
gave  a  low,  deep  growl,  a  sure  signal  of  his  rising  anger. 
I  turned  and  gazed  around,  but  seeing  no  cause  for  his 
wrath,  concluded  that  a  dog  was  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood,  whom  he  detected  though  I  could  not 
see  him.  I  was  aware  afterward  that  I  had  seen  two 
men  pass  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  that  they 

347 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

crossed  over  to  my  side  near  the  corner  ahead  of  me; 
but  I  took  no  notice  of  them.  I  had  a  pleasanter  sub- 
feet  of  thought  as  I  strolled  along.  I  was  thinking  of 
Eleanor  Leigh  and  building  air  castles  in  which  she 
was  always  the  chatelaine. 

Dix's  low  growl  fell  on  my  ear,  but  I  paid  no  heed. 
The  next  second — it  was  always  a  little  confused  in  my 
mind,  the  blow  came  so  quickly — I  was  conscious  of  a 
man — or  two  men,  springing  from  behind  something 
just  at  my  side  and  of  Dix's  launching  himself  at 
them  with  a  burst  of  rage,  and  at  the  same  moment, 
something  happened  to  me — I  did  not  know  what. 
A  myriad  stars  darted  before  my  eyes  and  I  felt  a  violent 
pain  in  my  shoulder.  I  staggered  and  fell  to  my  knees; 
but  sprang  up  again  under  a  feeling  that  I  must  help 
Dix,  who  seemed  to  have  been  seized  by  one  of  the  men 
in  his  arms,  a  stout  stumpy  fellow,  while  the  other  was 
attempting  to  kill  him  with  a  bludgeon  which  he  car 
ried.  I  flung  myself  on  the  latter,  and  seizing  him  by 
the  throat  bore  him  back  against  the  wall,  when  he 
suddenly  twisted  loose  and  took  to  his  heels.  Then  I 
turned  on  the  other  who,  I  thought,  was  trying  to  carry 
Dix  off.  I  found,  however,  that  instead  he  was  making 
a  fight  for  his  life.  At  the  moment  he  dropped  a  pistol 
which  he  was  drawing  and  I  sprang  for  it  and  got  it. 
Dix  had  leaped  straight  for  his  throat  and,  having  made 
good  his  hold,  had  hung  on  and  the  man  was  already 
nearly  strangled.  "For  God's  sake,  take  him  off.  Kill 
him.  I'm  choking,"  he  gasped  as  with  weakening 
hands  he  tore  at  the  dog's  massive  shoulders.  "I'm 

348 


COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

choking."    And  at  that  moment  he  staggered,  stumbled, 
and  sank  to  his  knees  with  a  groan. 

Fearing  that  he  would  be  killed  on  the  spot,  though 
I  was  sick  and  dizzy  from  the  blow,  I  seized  Dix  by  the 
throat  and  with  a  strong  wrench  of  his  windpipe  at  the 
same  time  that  I  gave  him  an  order,  I  broke  his  hold. 
And  fortunately  for  the  ruffian,  his  heavy  coat  collar 
had  partially  saved  his  throat. 

The  wretch  staggered  to  his  feet  with  an  oath  and 
supported  himself  against  the  wall  while  I  pacified 
Dix,  who  was  licking  his  chops,  his  hair  still  up  on  his 
back,  his  eyes  still  on  his  enemy. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  I  asked,  for,  though  still  dizzy,  the 
need  to  act  had  brought  my  senses  back. 

"What  business  is  that  of  yours?"  he  demanded 
brutally.  "Wait  a  minute.  I'll  kill  that  d d  dog." 

The  reply  to  my  inquiry  was  so  brutal  that  my  anger 
rose. 

"You  drunken  beast!  Say  a  word  and  I'll  give  you 
to  him  again  and  let  him  worry  you  like  a  rat.  You 
see  him!  Keep  back,  Dix! "  for  the  dog,  recognizing  my 
anger,  had  advanced  a  little  and  flattened  himself  to 
spring  on  the  least  provocation. 

"I  didn't  mean  no  offence,"  the  fellow  growled. 
"But  I  don't  like  a  d d  dog  to  be  jumpin'  at  me." 

"You  don't!  What  did  you  mean  by  trying  to  mur 
der  me?" 

"I  didn't  try  to  murder  you." 

"You  did.  I  have  no  money — not  a  cent.  I'm  as 
poor  as  you  are." 

349 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  wa'n't  after  no  money." 

"What  then?  What  had  I  ever  done  to  you  that 
you  should  be  after  me?" 

"I  wa'n't  after  you." 

"You  were.  You  tried  to  kill  me.  You've  cut  my 
head  open  and  no  thanks  to  you  that  you  didn't  kill 
me." 

"  T  wa'n't  me.  T  was  that  other  fellow,  the  skunk 
that  runned  away  and  left  me." 

"What's  his  name?" 

"I  don'  know.    I  never  seen  him  before." 

"What  are  you  lying  to  me  for?  What's  his  name 
and  why  was  he  after  me  ?  Tell  me  and  I'll  let  you  go 
— otherwise — I'll  give  you  to  the  police." 

"I'll  tell  you  this — he's  a  friend  of  a  man  you  know." 

"Of  a  man  I  know?    Who?" 

"He's  a  big  man,  too." 

"A  big  man!  Do  you  mean —  You  don't  mean 
CollMcSheen?" 

"I  didn't  tell  you,  did  I?  You  can  swear  to  that 
Now  give  me  five  dollars  and  let  me  go." 

"I  haven't  any  money  at  all,  but  I'll  take  you  to  a 
doctor  and  get  your  wound  dressed.  I  have  to  go  to 
one,  too." 

"I  don'  want  no  doctor — I'm  all  right." 

"No,  I  won't  give  you  up,"  I  said,  "if  you'll  tell  me 
the  truth.  I'm  not  after  you.  If  I'd  wanted  to  give 
you  up,  I'd  have  fired  this  pistol  and  brought  the  police. 
Come  on.  But  don't  try  to  run  off  or  I'll  let  you  have 


350 


COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

He  came  along,  at  first  surlily  enough;  but  presently 
he  appeared  to  get  in  a  better  temper,  at  least  with  me, 
and  turned  his  abuse  on  his  pal  for  deserting  him.  He 
declared  that  he  had  not  meant  to  do  me  any  harm,  in 
fact,  that  he  had  only  met  the  other  man  accidentally 
and  did  not  know  what  he  was  going  to  do,  etc. 

I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  my  friend  Dr.  Traumer 
at  home,  and  he  looked  after  the  wound  in  the  scoun 
drel's  throat  and  then  took  a  look  at  my  hurt. 

"You  had  a  close  graze,"  he  said,  "but  I  don't  think 
it  is  anything  more  serious  than  a  bad  scrape  on  your 
head,  and  a  laceration  and  bruise  on  the  shoulder." 

While  he  was  working  on  the  footpad  I  telephoned 
Langton,  got  hold  of  him  and  asked  him  to  come  there, 
which  he  said  he  would  do  at  once.  Just  as  the  doctor 
was  through  with  me,  Langton  walked  in.  I  never  saw 
so  surprised  an  expression  on  his  face  as  that  when  his 
eyes  fell  on  my  thug.  I  saw  at  once  that  he  knew  him. 
But  as  usual  he  said  nothing.  The  thug,  too,  evidently 
knew  he  was  an  officer;  for  he  gave  me  one  swift  glance 
of  fear.  I,  however,  allayed  his  suspicion. 

"It's  all  right,"  I  said,  "if  you  tell  me  the  truth. 
Who  is  he?"  I  asked  Langton.  He  smiled. 

"  Red  Talman.    What've  you  been  up  to  ?  "  he  asked. 

"NothinV 

"I  brought  him  here  to  have  his  wound  dressed,  and 
he's  going  directly.  I  have  promised  him." 

He  nodded. 

"Coll  McSheen  put  him  on  to  a  little  job  and  he 
bungled  it,  that's  all." 

351 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Langton  actually  looked  pleased;  but  I  could  not 
tell  whether  it  was  because  his  warning  had  been  veri 
fied  or  because  I  had  escaped. 

"'T  was  that  other  skunk,"  muttered  Talman 
sullenly. 

"Who?     Dutch?" 

The  footpad  coughed.    "Don'  know  who  't  was." 

"You  don't ?    You  don't  know  who  I  am  either ?" 

The  man  gave  him  a  keen  look  of  inspection,  but  he 
evidently  did  not  know  him.  Langton  leaned  over 
and  dropped  his  voice.  "Did  you  ever  know — ?"  I 
could  not  catch  the  name.  But  the  thug's  eyes  popped 
and  he  turned  white  under  his  dirt. 

"I  didn't  have  nothin'  't  all  to  do  with  it.  I  was  in 
Canady,"  he  faltered. 

Langton's  eyes  suddenly  snapped.  "I  know  where 
you  were.  This  gentleman's  a  friend  of  mine,"  he  said. 
"He  saved  my  life  once,  and  if  you  ever  touch  him,  I'll 
have  you — "  He  made  a  gesture  with  his  hand  to  his 
throat.  "Understand?  And  not  all  the  bosses  in  the 
city  will  save  you.  Understand?" 

"I  ain't  goin'  to  touch  him.  I  got  nothin'  against 
him." 

"You'd  better  not  have,"  said  Langton,  implacably. 
"Come  here."  He  took  him  out  into  the  doctor's  front 
office  and  talked  to  him  for  some  little  time  while  I  told 
the  doctor  of  my  adventure. 

"Who  is  Langton  when  he  is  at  home?"  I  asked 
him. 

He  chuckled.  "  He  is  'the  best  man  for  you  to  have 
352 


COLL  McSHEEN'S  METHODS 

in  this  city  if  Coll  McSheen  is  your  enemy.  He  is  a 
retainer  of  Mr.  Leigh's." 

Just  then  Langton  and  the  thug  came  in. 

"Say,  I'm  sorry  I  took  a  hand  in  that  job/'  said  the 
latter.  "But  that  skunk  that  runned  away,  he  put  't 
up,  and  he  said  's  another  friend  of  his  got  him  to  do  it." 

"Coll  McSheen?" 

"I  don't  know  who  't  was,"  he  persisted. 

I  glanced  at  Langton,  and  he  just  nodded. 

"Good-by.    If  ever  you  wants  a  job  done " 

"Get  out,"  said  Langton. 

"Don't  you  give  't  to  that  other  skunk.  I  didn't 
know.  Good-by.  Obliged  to  you."  And  he  passed 
through  the  door  which  Langton  held  open  for  him. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  the  latter  as  he  closed  the  door. 
"You  had  a  close  graze — that's  one  of  the  worst  crimi 
nals  in  the  country.  He  don't  generally  bungle  a  job. 
But  he's  all  right  now.  But  there  are  others." 

"My  dog  saved  my  life — he  got  his  throat." 

"That's  a  good  dog.  Better  keep  him  close  to  you 
for  a  while." 


353 


XXVII 

THE  SHADOW 

A  great  factory  with  the  machinery  all  working  and 
revolving  with  absolute  and  rhythmic  regularity  and 
with  the  men  all  driven  by  one  impulse  and  moving  in 
unison  as  though  a  constituent  part  of  the  mighty  ma 
chine,  is  one  of  the  most  inspiring  examples  of  directed 
force  that  the  world  shows.  I  have  rarely  seen  the  face 
of  a  mechanic  in  the  act  of  creation  which  was  not  fine, 
never  one  which  was  not  earnest  and  impressive. 

Such  were  the  men,  some  hundreds  of  them,  whom 
I  used  to  gaze  at  and  admire  and  envy  through  the 
open  windows  of  several  great  factories  and  mills  along 
the  street  through  which  lay  my  way  to  my  office.  I 
chose  this  street  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them  of  a 
morning,  as  with  bared  and  brawny  arms  and  chests 
and  shining  brows,  eager  and  earnest  and  bold,  they 
bent  over  glowing  fires  and  flaming  furnaces  and  rolled 
massive  red-hot  irons  hither  and  yon,  tossing  them 
about,  guiding  them  in  their  rush  and  swing  and  whirl, 
as  though  they  were  very  sons  of  Vulcan,  and  ever  with 
a  catch  of  song  or  a  jest,  though  a  swerve  of  the  fraction 
of  an  inch  might  mean  death  itself. 

I  had  come  to  know  some  of  them  well,  that  is,  as 
well  as  a  man  in  a  good  coat  can  know  men  in  a  work 
man's  blouse,  and  numbers  of  them  I  began  to  know 

354 


THE  SHADOW 

in  a  sort,  as  day  after  day  I  fell  in  beside  them  on  their 
way  to  or  from  their  work;  for,  lawyer  and  gentleman 
as  I  was,  they,  I  think,  felt  in  me  the  universal  touch  of 
brotherhood.  We  used  to  talk  together,  and  I  found 
them  human  to  the  core  and  most  intelligent.  Wolffert 
was  an  idol  among  them.  They  looked  to  him  as  to 
a  champion. 

"He  has  learned,"  said  one  of  them  to  me  once,  "the 
secret  of  getting  at  us.  He  takes  us  man  for  man  and 
don't  herd  us  like  cattle.  He  speaks  to  me  on  a  level, 
man  to  man,  and  don't  patronize  me." 

He  was  a  strong-visaged,  clear-eyed  Teuton  with  a 
foreign  accent. 

"We  haf  our  own  home,"  he  said  with  pride,  "and 
the  building  company  is  'most  off  my  back.  If  we  can 
but  keep  at  vork  we'll  soon  be  safe,  and  the  young  ones 
are  all  at  school.  The  sun  shines  bright  after  the 
storm,"  he  added  with  a  shake  of  his  strong  head. 

"Ah,  well,  we  are  having  good  times  now.  The  sun 
is  shining  for  many  of  us.  Let  us  pray  that  it  may 
keep  shining." 

"  God  grant  it,"  he  said,  solemnly. 

I  was  thinking  of  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh  and  the  way  she 
had  smiled  the  last  time  Heaven  had  favored  me  with  a 
sight  of  her.  That  was  sunshine  enough  for  me.  She 
had  heard  of  the  attack  on  me  and  had  been  so  sym 
pathetic  that  I  had  almost  courted  her  again  on  the 
spot.  John  Marvel  had  made  me  out  quite  a  hero. 

The  good  times,  however,  of  which  my  mill-friends 
and  I  talked  were  rapidly  passing.  In  Coll  McSheen's 

355 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

offices  plans  were  being  laid  which  were  to  blot  out  the 
sun  for  many  a  poor  family. 

Within  a  day  or  two  I  began  to  observe  in  the  press 
ominous  notices  of  an  approaching  strike.  All  the 
signs,  it  was  declared,  pointed  to  it.  Meetings  were 
being  held,  and  the  men  were  rapidly  getting  out  of 
hand  of  their  conservative  leaders,  who,  it  being  on  the 
verge  of  winter,  were  averse  to  their  undertaking  the 
strike  at  this  time,  notwithstanding  what  they  admitted 
were  their  undoubted  and  long-standing  grievances. 
As  I  ran  over  the  accounts  in  many  of  the  papers  I  was 
surprised  to  find  that  among  these  "conservatives" 
was  mentioned  the  name  of  Wringman.  It  was  evi 
dent,  however,  that  the  efforts  of  the  conservative  ele 
ment  were  meeting  with  success;  for  in  the  working- 
men's  section  through  which  I  passed  every  day  there 
was  not  as  yet  the  least  sign  of  excitement  of  any  kind, 
or,  indeed,  of  any  dissatisfaction.  The  railway  men 
all  appeared  quiet  and  contented,  and  the  force  in  the 
several  large  factories  along  my  route  whom  I  mingled 
with  in  my  tramp  back  and  forth  from  my  office  were 
not  only  free  from  moroseness,  but  were  easy  and 
happy.  The  only  strikes  going  on  in  the  city  were  those 
on  the  lines  in  which  the  Argand  interests  were,  and  they 
were  frequently  spoken  of  as  "chronic." 

The  mills  were  all  running  as  usual;  work  was  going 
on;  but  a  shadow  was  deepening  over  the  community 
of  the  operatives.  The  strike  which  the  newspapers 
had  been  prophesying  for  some  time  was  decreed — not 
yet,  indeed,  by  the  proper  authorities;  but  it  was  de- 

356 


THE    SHADOW 

termined  on  by  the  leaders,  and  its  shadow  was  dark 
ening  the  entire  section.  The  first  knowledge  I  had  of 
it  was  the  gloom  that  appeared  on  the  countenances  of 
the  men  I  saw  in  the  morning.  And  when  I  met  Wolf- 
fert  he  was  more  downcast  than  I  had  seen  him  in  a 
long  time.  He  had  been  working  night  and  day  to 
stave  off  the  trouble. 

"The  poor  fools!"  was  all  he  could  say.  "They  are 
the  victims  of  their  ignorance." 

From  my  earliest  arrival  in  the  city  I  had  been  aware 
of  something  about  the  laboring  element — something 
connected  with  the  Union,  yet  different  from  what  I 
had  been  accustomed  to  elsewhere.  I  had  ever  been 
an  advocate  of  the  union  of  workingmen  to  protect 
themselves  against  the  tyranny  and  insolence  of  those 
who,  possibly  by  fortuitous  circumstances,  were  their 
employers.  I  had  seen  the  evil  of  the  uncurbed  inso 
lence  added  to  the  unlimited  power  of  the  boss  to  take 
on  or  to  fling  off  whom  he  pleased  and,  while  the  occu 
pation  lasted,  to  give  or  reduce  wages  as  he  pleased. 
And  I  had  seen  the  tyrannous  exercise  of  this  power — 
had  seen  men  turned  off  for  nothing  but  the  whim  of 
a  superior;  had  seen  them  hacked  about;  ordered 
around  as  if  they  had  been  beasts  of  burden,  and  if  they 
ever  murmured,  told  to  go  elsewhere,  as  though  a  poor 
man  with  a  family  of  children  could  "go  elsewhere"  at 
an  hour's  notice;  hundreds  of  men,  thousands  of  men 
"laid  off,"  because,  it  was  said,  "times  were  dull," 
though  the  returns  from  their  work  in  good  times  had 
made  their  employers  rich  beyond  anything  their  fathers 

357 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

had  ever  dreamed  of.  And  I  had  witnessed  with  that 
joy  that  a  man  feels  in  seeing  justice  meted  out,  the  rise 
of  a  power  able  to  exact,  if  not  complete,  at  least, 
measurable  justice  for  the  down-trodden. 

But  here  was  something  different.  It  was  still  the 
Union;  but  bore  a  new  complexion  and  a  different  rela 
tion  alike  to  the  workingman,  the  employer,  and  the 
public.  It  was  a  strange  power  and  its  manifestation 
was  different.  It  was  not  in  active  exercise  when  I 
first  went  among  the  workingmen.  Yet  it  was  ever 
present.  A  cloud  appeared  to  hang  over  the  population; 
there  was  a  feeling  that  a  volcano,  as  yet  quiet,  might 
burst  forth  at  any  time,  and  no  man  could  tell  what  the 
end  might  be.  It  was  ever  in  men's  minds,  not  only 
the  workingmen's,  but  the  tradesmen's,  the  middle 
men's.  It  appeared  to  keep  on  edge  a  keen  antagonism 
between  all  laboring  men  as  such  and  all  other  men. 
It  was  nearer  and  more  important  than  politics  or  re 
ligion.  It  had  entered  into  their  lives  and  created  a 
power  which  they  feared  and  obeyed.  To  a  consid 
erable  extent  it  had  taken  away  their  liberties,  and  their 
lives  were  regulated  by  their  relation  to  it.  I  saw  the 
growth  of  the  system  and  was  mystified  by  it,  for  I 
saw  individuality  and  personal  liberty  passing  away — 
men  deliberately  abandoning  their  most  cherished 
privileges  to  submit  to  a  yoke  that  was  being  put  on 
them.  I  noted  the  decline  of  excellence  in  the  indi 
vidual's  work  and  of  ambition  for  excellence  in  himself 
— the  decay  of  the  standard  of  good  workmanship. 
I  marked  the  mere  commercial  question  of  wages — 

358 


THE    SHADOW 

higher  wages  irrespective  of  better  work — take  the 
place  of  the  old  standard  of  improved  workmanship 
and  witnessed  the  commercialism  which  in  large  figures 
had  swept  over  the  employer  class,  now  creep  over  and 
engulf  the  laboring  class  to  the  destruction  of  all  fine 
ambition  and  the  reduction  of  excellence  to  a  dead 
level  of  indifferent  mediocrity.  They  deliberately  sur 
rendered  individual  liberty  and  all  its  possibilities  and 
became  the  bondmen  of  a  tyrannous  dictator  which 
they  set  up. 

I  was  familiar  with  the  loafer  and  the  shirker.  He  is 
incident  to  humanity.  He  exists  in  every  calling  and 
rank  of  life.  But  it  was  novel  to  me  to  find  an  entire 
class  deliberately  loafing  and  shirking  and  slurring  on 
principle.  I  saw  gangs  of  workmen  waiting  around, 
shivering  in  the  wind,  for  the  hour  to  come  when  they 
might  take  up  the  tools  which  lay  at  hand  with  which 
they  might  have  warmed  themselves.  I  saw  them  on 
the  stroke,  drop  those  tools  as  though  the  wave  of 
sound  had  paralyzed  their  arms.  I  saw  them  leave  the 
stone  half  set,  the  rivet  half  driven,  the  bar  half  turned; 
the  work,  whatever  it  was,  half  done.  I  saw  bright, 
alert,  intelligent  men,  whose  bodies  were  twice  and 
their  brains  ten  times  as  active  as  their  fellows',  do 
double  work  in  the  same  time  as  the  latter  and  then 
dawdle  and  loaf  and  yawn  empty-handed  beside  the 
unfinished  work  with  which  they  might  readily  have 
doubled  their  income.  I  asked  some  of  my  friends  why  it 
was  and  the  answer  was  always  the  same:  "the  Union." 

A  strike  was  going  on  on  the  other  side  of  the  town, 

359 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

but  the  direct  results  were  not  yet  felt  among  us,  and 
as  the  enterprises  there  where  the  trouble  existed  were 
in  conflict  with  those  on  our  side,  and  therefore  our 
rivals,  it  did  not  appear  likely  that  we  should  be  affected 
except  possibly  to  our  advantage.  The  population  of 
our  section,  therefore,  looked  on  and  discussed  the 
troubles  with  the  placid  satisfaction  of  men  who,  secure 
on  land,  discuss  and  commiserate  those  tossed  by 
storms  far  off,  whose  existence  is  known  only  by  the 
long  surges  that  with  spent  force  roll  against  their 
shore.  They  enjoyed  their  own  good  fortune,  rejoiced 
in  the  good  times,  and  to  a  considerable  extent  spent 
their  earnings  like  children,  almost  indifferent  as  to  the 
future. 


360 


XXVIII 
THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

Miss  Eleanor  Leigh  had  observed  for  some  time  that 
her  father  was  more  than  usually  grave  and  preoccupied. 
She  knew  the  cause,  for  her  father  discussed  many 
matters  with  her.  It  was  often  his  way  of  clarifying 
his  own  views.  And  when  he  asked  her  what  she 
thought  of  them  she  felt  that  it  was  the  highest  compli 
ment  she  ever  received — not  that  he  took  her  advice, 
she  knew,  but  this  did  not  matter;  he  had  consulted 
her.  The  fact  gave  her  a  self-reliance  wholly  different 
from  mere  conceit.  It  steadied  her  and  furnished  her  a 
certain  atmosphere  of  calm  in  which  she  formed  her 
judgment  in  other  matters.  Of  late,  in  the  shadow  of 
the  clash  with  his  operatives,  which  appeared  to  be 
growing  more  and  more  imminent,  he  had  not  advised 
with  her  as  formerly  and  the  girl  felt  it.  Was  it  due  to 
the  views  which  she  had  been  expressing  of  late  touching 
the  suppression  of  the  laboring  class?  She  knew  that 
her  father  held  views  as  to  this  quite  the  opposite  of 
those  she  had  been  vaguely  groping  toward,  and  while  he 
treated  her  views  with  amused  indulgence  he  consid 
ered  the  whole  line  of  thought  as  the  project  of  selfish 
demagogues,  or,  at  best,  of  crack-brained  doctrinaires. 
It  might  suit  for  the  millennium,  but  not  for  a  society  in 

361 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

which  every  man  was  competing  with  every  other  man. 
In  fact,  however,  the  principal  reason  for  Mr.  Leigh's 
silence  was  the  growing  differences  between  himself 
and  Mrs.  Argand.  The  struggle  had  grown  until  it 
involved  the  very  existence  of  his  house.  He  knew 
that  if  his  daughter  ever  realized  the  truth,  that  her 
aunt's  interest  had  been  thrown  against  him  and  in 
favor  of  men  whose  methods  he  reprobated,  it  would 
mean  the  end  of  all  between  them,  and  he  was  unwilling 
that  a  breach  should  come  between  his  daughter  and 
her  mother's  sister. 

The  status  of  the  present  relation  with  his  men  was, 
however,  growing  steadily  worse  and  more  threatening. 
The  influences  at  wrork  were  more  and  more  apparent. 
The  press  was  giving  more  and  more  space  to  the  widen 
ing  breach,  and  the  danger  of  a  strike  on  a  vast  scale 
that  should  exceed  anything  ever  known  heretofore 
was  steadily  increasing. 

Eleanor  knew  that  this  was  the  cloud  that  left  its 
shadow  on  her  father's  brow  and  she  determined  to 
make  an  effort  to  assist  him.  She  had  revolved  the 
scheme  in  her  little  head  and  it  appeared  the  very  thing 
to  do. 

The  approach  of  Thanksgiving  offered  an  oppor 
tunity  for  an  act  of  good-will  which  she  felt  sure  would 
bear  fruit.  She  had  talked  it  over  with  John  Marvel 
and  he  had  glowed  at  the  suggestion.  So  one  day  at 
the  table  she  broke  in  on  her  father's  reverie. 

"Father,  how  many  men  have  you  in  the  mills  and 
on  the  railway?" 

362 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

Her  father  smiled  as  he  nearly  always  did  when 
she  spoke  to  him,  as,  indeed,  most  people  smiled, 
with  sheer  content  over  the  silvery  voice  and  sparkling 
eyes. 

"Why,  roughly,  in  the  mills  about  eleven  hundred — 
there  may  be  a  few  more  or  a  few  less  to-day;  to 
morrow  there  will  not  be  one." 

"Oh!  I  hope  they  won't  do  that.  I  have  such  a 
beautiful  plan." 

"What  is  it?  To  give  them  all  they  demand,  and 
have  them  come  back  with  a  fresh  and  more  insolent 
demand  to-morrow?" 

"No,  to  give  them — every  one  who  has  a  family,  a 
Thanksgiving  basket — a  turkey." 

Her  father  burst  out  laughing.  "A  turkey?  Better 
give  them  a  goose.  What  put  that  idea  into  your  little 
head  ?  Why,  they  would  laugh  at  you  if  they  did  not 
fling  it  back  in  your  face." 

"Oh!  no,  they  would  not.  I  never  saw  any  one  who 
did  not  respond  to  kindness." 

"Better  wait  till  after  to-morrow  and  you  will  save 
a  lot  of  turkeys." 

"No,  I  am  serious.  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  for 
quite  a  while  and  I  have  some  money  of  my  own." 

"You'd  better  keep  it.     You  may  come  to  need  it." 

"No,  I  want  to  try  my  plan.     You  do  not  forbid  it  ?" 

"Oh,  no!  If  you  can  avert  the  strike  that  they  are 
preparing  for,  your  money  will  be  a  good  investment." 

"I  don't  do  it  as  an  investment,"  protested  the  girl. 
"I  do  it  as  an  act  of  kindness." 

363 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"All  right,  have  your  way.  It  can't  do  any  harm. 
If  you  succeed,  I  shall  be  quite  willing  to  foot  the 
bills." 

"No,  this  is  my  treat,"  said  the  girl,  "  though  I  shall 
put  your  name  in  too." 

So,  that  day  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh  spent  inspecting  and 
getting  prices  on  turkeys,  and  by  night  she  had  placed 
her  order  with  a  reliable  man  who  had  promised  to  pro 
vide  the  necessary  number  of  baskets,  and,  what  is 
more,  had  gotten  interested  in  her  plan.  She  had  en 
listed  also  the  interest  of  John  Marvel,  who  worked  like 
a  Trojan  in  furtherance  of  her  wishes.  And  I,  having 
learned  from  John  of  her  charitable  design,  gave  my 
assistance  with  what  I  fear  was  a  less  unselfish  phi 
lanthropy.  Happily,  disease  is  not  the  only  thing  that 
is  contagious.  It  was  impossible  to  work  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  those  two  and  not  catch  something  of 
John  Marvel's  spirit,  not  to  mention  the  sweet  contagion 
of  Eleanor  Leigh's  charming  enthusiasm.  I  learned 
much  in  that  association  of  her  cleverness  and  sound 
sterling  sense  as  she  organized  her  force  and  set  them 
to  work.  And  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  get  one  of  her 
charming  smiles.  It  was  when  she  said,  "I  want  one 
of  the  best  baskets  for  Mrs.  Kenneth  McNeil,"  and  I 
replied,  "I  have  already  sent  it."  Thus,  in  due  time, 
on  the  day  before  Thanksgiving  Day,  a  score  of  wagons 
were  busily  at  work  carrying  not  only  the  turkeys 
ordered  by  Miss  Leigh,  as  a  Thanksgiving  present  for 
each  family  in  her  father's  employ,  but  with  each  one  a 
basket  of  other  things. 

364 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

It  happened  that  that  night  a  great  meeting  of  the 
operatives  was  held. 

It  was  largely  attended,  for  though  the  object  had  not 
been  stated  in  the  call,  it  was  well  known  that  it  was  to 
consider  a  momentous  subject;  nothing  less  than  an 
ultimatum  on  the  part  of  the  men  to  the  Company,  and 
this  many  of  the  men  felt  was  the  same  thing  with  a 
strike.  The  name  of  David  Wringman,  the  chief 
speaker,  was  a  guaranty  of  this.  He  was  a  man  who 
had  forged  his  way  to  the  front  by  sheer  force,  mainly 
sheer  brute  force.  From  a  common  laborer  he  had 
risen  to  be  one  of  the  recognized  leaders  in  what  had 
come  to  be  known  as  the  workingmen's  movement.  He 
had  little  or  no  education,  and  was  not  known  to  have 
technical  training  of  any  kind.  Some  said  he  had  been 
a  machinist;  some  a  miner;  some  a  carpenter.  His 
past  was,  in  fact,  veiled  in  mystery.  No  one  knew, 
indeed,  where  he  came  from.  Some  said  he  was  Irish; 
some  that  he  was  Welsh;  some  that  he  was  American. 
All  that  was  known  of  him  positively  was  that  he  was  a 
man  of  force,  with  a  gift  of  fluent  speech  and  fierce  in 
vective,  which  rose  at  times  and  under  certain  condi 
tions  to  eloquence.  At  least,  he  could  sway  an  assem 
blage  of  workingmen,  and,  at  need,  he  was  not  back 
ward  in  using  his  fists,  or  any  other  weapon  that  came 
to  hand.  Speaking  of  Wringman,  Wolffert  once  said 
that  not  the  least  of  the  misfortunes  of  the  poor  was  the 
leaders  they  were  forced  to  follow.  His  reputation  for 
brute  strength  was  quite  equal  to  his  reputation  as  a 
speaker,  and  stories  were  freely  told  of  how,  when  oppo- 

365 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

sition  was  too  strong  for  him  in  a  given  meeting,  he 
had  come  down  from  the  platform  and  beaten  his 
opponents  into  submission  with  his  brawny  fists.  It 
was  rumored  how  he  had,  rr.ore  than  once,  even  waylaid 
his  rivals  and  done  them  up,  but  this  story  was  gen 
erally  told  in  undertones;  for  Wringman  was  now  too 
potent  and  dangerous  a  man  for  most  men  of  his  class 
to  offend  personally  without  good  cause.  His  presence 
in  the  city  was  in  itself  a  sign  that  some  action  would 
be  taken,  for  he  had  of  late  come  to  be  known  as  an 
advanced  promoter  of  aggressive  action.  To  this  bold 
radicalism  was  due  much  of  his  power.  He  was  "not 
afraid  of  the  capitalists,"  men  said.  And  so  they 
established  him  in  his  seat  as  their  leader.  To  his 
presence  was  due  a  goodly  share  of  the  shadow  that  had 
been  gathering  over  the  workingmen's  part  of  the  sec 
tion  of  the  town  which  I  have  noted. 

Thus,  the  meeting  on  the  evening  I  speak  of  was 
largely  attended.  For  an  hour  before  the  time  set  for 
it  the  large  hall  in  the  second  story  of  a  big  building 
was  crowded,  and  many  who  could  not  get  in  were 
thronging  the  stairways  and  the  street  outside.  A  reek 
of  strong  tobacco  pervaded  the  air  and  men  with  sullen 
brows  talked  in  undertones,  broken  now  and  then  by 
a  contentious  discussion  in  some  group  in  which  pos 
sibly  some  other  stimulant  than  tobacco  played  a  part. 

Wolffert  and  Marvel  had  both  been  trying  to  avert 
the  strike,  and  had,  I  heard,  made  some  impression 
among  the  people.  Marvel  had  worked  hard  all  day 
aiding  Miss  Leigh  in  her  friendly  efforts,  and  Wolffert 

366 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

had  been  arguing  on  rational  grounds  against  a  strike 
at  the  beginning  of  winter.  I  had  been  talking  over 
matters  with  some  of  my  mill-friends  who  had  invited 
me  to  go  with  them;  so  I  attended  the  meeting.  I  had 
been  struck  for  some  time  with  the  change  that  had 
been  going  on  in  the  workingmen's  districts.  As 
wretched  as  they  had  been  before  they  were  now  in 
finitely  more  so. 

The  meeting  began,  as  the  meetings  of  such  bodies 
usually  begin,  with  considerable  discussion  and  ap 
pearance  of  deliberation.  There  was  manifest  much 
discontent  and  also  much  opposition  to  taking  any 
steps  that  would  lead  to  a  final  breach.  A  number  of 
men  boldly  stood  forth  to  declare  for  the  half-a-loaf- 
better-than-no-bread  theory,  and  against  much  hooting 
they  stood  their  ground.  The  question  of  a  resolution 
of  thanks  for  Miss  Leigh's  baskets  aroused  a  little 
opposition,  but  the  majority  were  manifestly  for  it, 
and  many  pleasant  things  were  said  about  her  and  her 
father  as  well,  his  liberal  policy  being  strongly  con 
trasted  with  the  niggard  policy  of  the  other  roads. 
Then  there  appeared  the  real  leader  of  the  occasion,  to 
hear  whom  the  meeting  had  been  called:  Wringman. 
And  within  ten  minutes  he  had  everything  his  own  way. 
He  was  greeted  with  cheers  as  he  entered,  and  he 
shouldered  his  way  to  the  front  with  a  grim  look  on  his 
face  that  had  often  prepared  the  way  for  him.  He  was 
undoubtedly  a  man  of  power,  physical  and  mental. 
Flinging  off  his  heavy  overcoat,  he  scarcely  waited  for 
the  brief  introduction,  undertaken  by  the  Chairman  of 

367 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

the  occasion,  and,  refusing  to  wait  for  the  cheers  to  sub 
side,  he  plunged  at  once  into  the  midst  of  his  subject. 

"Workingmen,  why  am  I  here?  Because,  like  you, 
I  am  a  working  man."  He  stretched  out  his  long  arm 
and  swept  it  in  a  half  circle  and  they  cheered  his  gesture 
and  voice,  and  violent  action,  though  had  they  con 
sidered,  as  they  might  well  have  done,  he  had  not  "hit 
a  lick"  with  his  hands  in  a  number  of  years.  Unless, 
indeed,  a  rumor  which  had  begun  to  go  the  rounds  was 
true,  that  he  had  once  at  least  performed  work  for  the 
government  in  an  institution  where  the  labor  was  not 
wholly  voluntary. 

Then  came  a  catalogue  of  their  grievances  and  wrongs, 
presented  with  much  force  and  marked  dramatic  ability, 
and  on  the  heels  of  it  a  tirade  against  all  employers  and 
capitalists,  and  especially  against  their  employer,  whom 
he  pictured  as  their  arch  enemy  and  oppressor,  the  chief 
and  final  act  of  whose  infamy,  he  declared  to  be  his 
"attempt  to  bribe  them  with  baskets  of  rotten  fowls." 
Who  was  this  man  ?  He  would  tell  them.  He  held  in 
his  hand  a  paper  which  pictured  him  in  his  true  char 
acter.  Here  he  opened  a  journal  and  read  from  the 
article  I  had  written  for  Kalender — the  infamous  head 
lines  of  the  editor  which  changed  the  whole.  This  was 
the  man  with  whom  they  had  to  deal — a  man  who 
flung  scraps  from  his  table  for  famishing  children  to 
wrangle  over  with  dogs.  There  was  but  one  way  to 
meet  such  insolence,  he  declared,  to  fling  them  back  in 
his  face  and  make  him  understand  that  they  didn't 
want  favors  from  him,  but  justice;  not  rotten  fowls, 

368 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

but  their  own  hard-earned  money.  "And  now,"  he 
cried,  "  I  put  the  motion  to  send  every  basket  back  with 
this  message  and  to  demand  an  increase  of  twenty-five 
per  cent,  pay  forthwith.  Thus,  we  shall  show  them 
and  all  the  world  that  we  are  independent  American 
workmen  earning  our  own  bread  and  asking  no  man's 
meat.  Let  all  who  favor  this  rise  and  the  scabs  sit  still.' 

It  was  so  quickly  and  shrewdly  done  that  a  large 
part  of  the  assembly  were  on  their  feet  in  a  second, 
indeed,  many  of  them  were  already  standing,  and  the 
protest  of  the  objectors  was  lost  in  the  wild  storm  of 
applause.  Over  on  the  far  side  I  saw  little  McNeil 
shouting  and  gesticulating  in  vehement  protest;  but  as 
I  caught  sight  of  him  a  dozen  men  piled  on  him  and 
pulled  him  down,  hammering  him  into  silence.  The 
man's  power  and  boldness  had  accomplished  what  his 
reasoning  could  never  have  effected. 

The  shouts  that  went  up  showed  how  completely  he 
had  won.  I  was  thrown  into  a  sort  of  maze.  But  his 
next  words  recalled  me.  It  was  necessary,  he  went 
on,  that  he  should  still  maintain  his  old  position. 
His  heart  bled  every  moment;  but  he  would  sacrifice 
himself  for  them,  and  if  need  were,  he  would  die  with 
them;  and  when  this  time  came  he  would  lead  them 
through  flaming  streets  and  over  broken  plutocrats  to 
the  universal  community  of  everything.  He  drew  a 
picture  of  the  rapine  that  was  to  follow,  which  surpassed 
everything  I  had  ever  believed  possible.  When  he  sat 
down,  his  audience  was  a  mob  of  lunatics.  Insensible 
to  the  folly  of  the  step  I  took,  I  sprang  to  my  chair  and 

369 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

began  to  protest.  They  hushed  down  for  a  second.  I 
denounced  Wringman  as  a  scoundrel,  a  spy,  a  hound. 
•With  a  roar  they  set  upon  me  and  swept  me  from  my 
feet.  Why  I  was  not  killed  instantly,  I  hardly  know 
to  this  day.  Fortunately,  their  very  fury  impeded  them. 
I  knew  that  it  was  necessary  to  keep  my  feet,  and  I 
fought  like  a  demon.  I  could  hear  Wringman Js  voice 
high  above  the  uproar  harking  them  on.  Suddenly  a 
cry  of  "put  him  out"  was  raised  close  beside  me.  A 
pistol  was  brandished  before  my  face;  my  assailants 
fell  back  a  little,  and  I  was  seized  and  hustled  to  the 
door.  I  found  a  man  I  had  noticed  near  me  in  the 
back  part  of  the  hall,  who  had  sat  with  his  coat  collar 
turned  up  and  his  hat  on,  to  be  my  principal  ejector. 
With  one  hand  he  pushed  me  toward  the  entrance  whilst, 
brandishing  his  revolver  with  the  other,  he  defended  me 
from  the  blows  that  were  again  aimed  at  me.  But  all 
the  time  he  cursed  me  violently. 

"Not  in  here;  let  him  go  outside.  Leave  him  to  me 
— I'll  settle  him!"  he  shouted — and  the  crowd  shouted 
also.  So  he  bundled  me  to  the  door  and  followed  me 
out,  pushing  others  back  and  jerking  the  door  to  after 
him. 

On  the  outside  I  turned  on  him.  I  had  been  badly 
battered  and  my  blood  was  up.  I  was  not  afraid  of 
one  man,  even  with  a  pistol.  As  I  sprang  for  him,  how 
ever,  he  began  to  put  up  his  weapon,  chuckled,  and 
dropped  his  voice. 

"Hold  on — you've  had  a  close  call — get  away  from 
here." 

370 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

It  was  Langton,  the  detective.  He  followed  me 
down  the  steps  and  out  to  the  street,  and  then  joined  me. 

"Well?"  he  laughed,  "what  do  you  think  of  your 
friends?" 

"That  I  have  been  a  fool." 

He  smiled  with  deep  satisfaction.  "What  were  you 
doing  in  there?"  I  asked. 

"Looking  after  my  friends.  But  I  don't  feel  it 
necessary  to  invite  them  to  cut  my  throat.  One  good 
turn  deserves  another,"  he  proceeded.  "You  keep 
away  from  there  or  you'll  find  yourself  in  a  bad  way. 
That  Wringman " 

"Is  a  scoundrel." 

"Keep  a  lookout  for  him.  He's  after  you  and  he  has 
powerful  friends.  Good  night.  I  don't  forget  a  man 
who  has  done  me  a  kindness —  And  I  know  that 
fellow." 

He  turned  into  a  by-street. 

The  next  morning  the  papers  contained  an  account 
of  the  proceedings  with  glaring  headlines,  the  account 
in  the  Trumpet  being  the  fullest  and  most  sympathetic 
and  giving  a  picture  of  the  "great  labor-leader,  Wring 
man,  the  idol  of  the  workingman,"  who  had,  by  "his 
courage  and  character,  his  loftiness  of  purpose  and 
singleness  of  aim,  inspired  them  with  courage  to  rise 
against  the  oppression  of  the  grinding  corporation 
which,  after  oppressing  them  for  years,  had  attempted 
by  a  trick  to  delude  them  into  an  abandonment  of  the 
measures  to  secure,  at  least,  partial  justice,  just  as  they 
were  about  to  wring  it  from  its  reluctant  hand." 

371 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

It  was  a  description  which  might  have  fitted  an 
apostle  of  righteousness.  But  what  sent  my  heart 
down  into  my  boots  was  the  republication  of  the  in 
serted  portion  of  my  article  on  the  delayed  train  attack 
ing  Mr.  Leigh.  The  action  of  the  meeting  was  stated 
to  be  unanimous,  and  in  proof  it  was  mentioned  that 
the  only  man  who  opposed  it,  a  young  man  evidently 
under  the  influence  of  liquor,  was  promptly  flung  out. 
I  knew  that  I  was  destined  to  hear  more  of  that  con 
founded  article,  and  I  began  to  cast  about  as  to  how  I 
should  get  around  it.  Should  I  go  to  Eleanor  Leigh 
and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  or  should  I  leave  it  to 
occasion  to  determine  the  matter?  I  finally  did  the 
natural  thing — I  put  off  the  decision. 

Miss  Eleanor  Leigh,  who  had  worked  hard  all  the 
day  before  despatching  baskets  to  the  hundreds  of 
homes  which  her  kind  heart  had  prompted  her  to  fill 
with  cheer,  came  down  to  breakfast  that  morning  with 
her  heart  full  of  gratitude  and  kindness  toward  all  the 
world.  She  found  her  father  sitting  in  his  place  with 
the  newspapers  lying  beside  him  in  some  disorder  and 
with  a  curious  smile  on  his  face.  She  divined  at  once 
that  something  had  happened. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  a  little  frightened. 

For  answer  Mr.  Leigh  pushed  a  paper  over  to  her 
and  her  eye  fell  on  the  headlines: 

HONEST  LABORING  MEN  RESENT  BRAZEN 

ATTEMPT  AT  BRIBERY 

LABOR  LEADER'S  GREAT  APPEAL  FOR  JUSTICE 

LABOR  DEMANDS  ITS  DUES 

372 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

"Oh,  father!"  With  a  gasp  she  burst  into  tears 
and  threw  herself  in  her  father's  arms. 

"That  is  the  work  of  Canter  and  his  partner,  Mc- 
Sheen,"  said  Mr.  Leigh  grimly. 

It  was  not  the  only  house  in  which  the  sending  back 
of  her  baskets  caused  tears.  In  many  a  poor  little  tene 
ment  there  was  sore  weeping  because  of  the  order — in 
not  a  few  a  turkey  had  not  been  known  for  years.  Yet 
mainly  the  order  was  obeyed. 

Next  day  Mr.  Leigh  received  in  his  office  a  notifica 
tion  that  a  deputation  of  the  operatives  on  his  road 
demanded  to  see  him  immediately.  He  knew  that  they 
were  coming;  but  he  had  not  expected  them  quite  so 
soon.  However,  he  was  quite  prepared  for  them  and 
they  were  immediately  admitted.  They  were  a  deputa 
tion  of  five  men,  two  of  them  elderly  men,  one  hardly 
more  than  a  youth,  the  other  two  of  middle  age.  At 
their  head  was  a  large,  surly  man  with  a  new  black  hat 
and  a  new  overcoat.  He  was  the  first  man  to  enter 
the  room  and  was  manifestly  the  leader  of  the  party. 
Mr.  Leigh  invited  them  to  take  seats  and  the  two 
older  men  sat  down.  Two  of  the  others  shuffled  a 
little  in  their  places  and  turned  their  eyes  on  their 
leader. 

"Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you?"  inquired  Mr.  Leigh 
quietly.  His  good-humored  face  had  suddenly  taken 
on  a  cold,  self-contained  expression,  as  of  a  man  who 
had  passed  the  worst. 

Again  there  was  a  slight  shuffle  on  the  part  of  the 
others  and  one  of  the  older  men,  rising  from  his  seat 

373 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  taking  a  step  forward,  said  gravely:  "We  have 
come  to  submit  to  you " 

His  speech,  however,  was  instantly  interrupted  by 

the  large  man  in  the  overcoat.  "Not  by  a  d d 

sight!"  he  began.  "We  have  come  to  demand  two 
things " 

Mr.  Leigh  nodded. 

"Only  two?    What  may  they  be,  please?" 

"First,  that  you  discharge  a  man  named  Kenneth 
McNeil,  who  is  a  non-union  man " 

Mr.  Leigh's  eyes  contracted  slightly. 

" — and  secondly,  that  you  give  a  raise  of  wages  of 
fifteen  per  cent,  to  every  man  in  your  employ — and 
every  woman,  too." 

"And  what  is  the  alternative,  pray?" 

"A  strike." 

"By  whom?"  .  -i 

"By  every  soul  in  your  employ,  and,  if  necessary,  by 
every  man  and  woman  who  works  in  this  city — and  if 
that  is  not  enough,  by  a  tie-up  that  will  paralyze  you, 
and  all  like  you." 

Mr.  Leigh  nodded.     "I  understand." 

A  slight  spark  came  into  his  eyes  and  his  lips  tightened 
just  a  shade,  but  when  he  spoke  his  voice  was  level  and 
almost  impersonal. 

"Will  nothing  less  satisfy  you?"  he  inquired. 

"Not  a  cent,"  said  the  leader  and  two  of  the  others 
looked  at  him  with  admiration.  "We  want  justice." 

Mr.  Leigh,  with  his  eye  steadily  on  him,  shook  his 
head  and  a  smile  came  into  his  eyes.  "No,  you 

374 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

don't  want  justice,"  he  said  to  the  leader,  "  you  want 
money." 

"Yes,  our  money." 

Again  Mr.  Leigh  shook  his  head  slowly  with  his  eyes 
on  him.  "No,  not  your  money — mine.  Who  are 
you?"  he  demanded.  "Are  you  one  of  the  employees 
of  this  road?" 

"My  name  is  Wringman  and  I  am  the  head  of  this 
delegation." 

"Are  you  an  employee  of  this  Company?" 

"I  am  the  head  of  this  delegation,  the  representative 
of  the  Associated  Unions  of  this  city,  of  which  the  Union 
on  this  road  constitutes  a  part." 

"I  will  not  deal  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Leigh,  "but  I 
will  deal  with  you,"  he  turned  to  the  other  men.  "I 
will  not  discharge  the  man  you  speak  of.  He  is  an 
exceptionally  good  man.  I  happen  to  know  this  of  my 
own  personal  knowledge,  and  I  know  the  reason  he  is 
not  a  Union  man.  It  is  because  you  kept  him  out  of 
the  Union,  hoping  to  destroy  him  as  you  have  destroyed 
other  honest  men  who  have  opposed  you."  He  turned 
back  to  the  leader. 

Wringman  started  to  speak,  but  Mr.  Leigh  cut  him 
short. 

"Not  a  word  from  you.  I  am  dealing  now  with  my 
own  men.  I  know  you.  I  know  who  your  employer 
is  and  what  you  have  been  paid.  You  sold  out  your 
people  in  the  East  whom  you  pretended  to  represent, 
and  now  you  have  come  to  sell  out  these  poor  people 
here,  on  whose  ignorance  and  innocence  you  trade  and 

375 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

fatten.  You  have  been  against  McNeil  because  he 
denounced  you  in  the  East.  Your  demand  is  prepos 
terous,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  others.  "It  is  an 
absolute  violation  of  the  agreement  which  you  entered 
into  with  me  not  three  months  ago.  I  have  that  agree 
ment  here  on  my  desk.  You  know  what  that  says, 
that  the  scale  adopted  was  to  stand  for  so  long,  and  if 
by  any  chance,  any  question  should  arise,  it  was  to  be 
arbitrated  by  the  tribunal  assented  to  by  yourselves  and 
myself.  I  am  willing  to  submit  to  that  tribunal  the 
question  whether  any  question  has  arisen,  and  if  it  has, 
to  submit  it  for  adjudication  by  them." 

"We  did  not  come  here  to  be  put  off  with  any  such 
hyp—"  began  the  leader,  but  before  he  had  gotten  his 
word  out,  Mr.  Leigh  was  on  his  feet. 

"Stop,"  he  said.  And  his  voice  had  the  sharp  crack 
of  a  rifle  shot.  "Not  a  word  from  you.  Out  of  this 
office."  He  pointed  to  the  door  and  at  the  same  moment 
touched  the  bell.  "Show  that  man  the  door,"  he  said, 
"instantly,  and  never  admit  him  inside  of  it  again." 

"Ah,  I'm  going,"  sneered  Wringman,  putting  on  his 
hat,  "but  not  because  you  ordered  me." 

"Yes,  you  are — because  I  ordered  you,  and  if  you 
don't  go  instantly  I  will  kick  you  out  personally." 

He  stepped  around  the  desk  and,  with  his  eyes  blazing, 
walked  quickly  across  the  floor,  but  Wringman  had 
backed  out  of  the  door. 

"For  the  rest  of  you,"  he  said,  "you  have  my  answer. 
I  warn  you  that  if  you  strike  you  will  close  the  factories 
that  now  give  employment  to  thousands  of  men  and 

376 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

young  women.  You  men  may  be  able  to  take  care  of 
yourselves;  but  you  should  think  of  those  girls.  Who 
will  take  care  of  them  when  they  are  turned  out  on  the 
street  ?  I  have  done  it  heretofore — unless  you  are  pre 
pared  to  do  it  now,  you  had  better  consider.  Go 
down  to  my  box-factory  and  walk  through  it  and  see 
them,  self-supporting  and  self-respecting.  Do  you 
know  what  will  become  of  them  if  they  are  turned  out  ? 
Go  to  Gallagin's  Gallery  and  see.  Go  back  to  your 
work  if  you  are  men  of  sense.  If  not,  I  have  nothing 
further  to  say  to  you." 

They  walked  out  and  Mr.  Leigh  shut  the  door  behind 
them.  When  he  took  his  seat  a  deep  gravity  had  settled 
on  him  which  made  him  look  older  by  years. 

The  following  day  an  order  for  a  general  strike  on 
the  lines  operated  by  Mr.  Leigh  was  issued,  and  the 
next  morning  after  that  not  a  wheel  turned  on  his  lines 
or  in  his  factories.  It  was  imagined  and  reported  as  only 
a  question  of  wages  between  an  employer  and  his  men. 
But  deep  down  underneath  lay  the  secret  motives  of 
McSheen  and  Canter  and  their  set  who  had  been  plot 
ting  in  secret,  weaving  their  webs  in  the  dark — gambling 
in  the  lives  of  men  and  sad-eyed  women  and  hungry 
children.  The  effect  on  the  population  of  that  section 
of  the  city  was  curious.  Of  all  sad  things  on  earth  a 
strike  is  the  saddest.  And  like  other  battles,  next  to  a 
defeat  the  saddest  scene  is  the  field  of  victory. 

The  shadow  had  settled  down  on  us;  the  sunshine 
was  gone.  The  temper  of  every  one  appeared  to  have 
been  strained.  The  principle  of  Unionism  as  a  system 

377 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

of  protection  and  defence  had  suddenly  taken  form  as  a 
system  of  aggression  and  active  hostility.  Class-feeling 
suddenly  sprang  up  in  open  and  armed  array,  and  next 
came  division  within  classes.  The  talk  was  all  of  force; 
the  feeling  all  one  of  enmity  and  strife.  The  entire 
population  appeared  infected  by  it.  Houses  were 
divided  against  themselves;  neighbors  who  had  lived 
in  friendliness  and  hourly  intercourse  and  exchanged 
continual  acts  of  kindness,  discussed,  contended,  quar 
relled,  threatened,  and  fought  or  passed  by  on  the  other 
side  scowling  and  embittered.  Sweetness  gave  place 
to  rancor  and  good-will  to  hate. 

Among  those  affected  by  the  strike  was  the  family 
of  my  old  drummer.  The  change  was  as  apparent  in 
this  little  home,  where  hitherto  peace  and  content 
had  reigned  supreme  with  Music  to  fill  in  the  inter 
vals  and  make  joy,  as  in  the  immediate  field  of  the 
strike. 

The  whole  atmosphere  of  happiness  underwent  a 
change,  as  though  a  deadly  damp  had  crept  in  from  the 
outside,  mildewing  with  its  baleful  presence  all  within, 
and  turning  the  very  sunlight  into  gloom.  Elsa  had 
lost  her  place.  The  box-factory  was  closed.  The 
house  was  filled  with  contention.  The  musicians 
who  came  around  to  smoke  their  big  pipes  and  drink 
beer  with  old  Loewen  were  like  the  rest,  infected. 
Nothing  appeared  to  please  any  longer.  The  director 
was  a  tyrant;  the  first  violin  a  charlatan;  the  rest  of 
the  performers  mostly  fools  or  worse;  and  the  whole 
orchestra  "a  fake." 

378 


THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

This  was  the  talk  I  heard  in  the  home  when  I 
stopped  by  sometimes  of  an  evening  on  my  way  to  my 
room,  and  found  some  of  his  friends  arguing  with  him 
over  their  steins  and  pipes,  and  urging  a  stand  against 
the  director  and  a  demand  that  he  accede  to  their 
wishes.  The  old  drummer  himself  stood  out  stoutly. 
The  director  had  always  been  kind  to  him  and  to  them, 
he  insisted.  He  was  a  good  man  and  took  pride  in 
the  orchestra,  as  much  pride  as  he  himself  did.  But  I 
could  see  that  he  was  growing  soured.  He  drank  more 
beer  and  practised  less.  Moreover,  he  talked  more  of 
money,  which  once  he  had  scarcely  ever  mentioned. 
But  the  atmosphere  was  telling;  the  mildew  was 
appearing.  And  in  this  haunt  of  peace,  peace  was 
gone. 

I  learned  from  Loewen  one  evening  that  in  the  event 
of  the  strike  not  being  settled  soon,  there  was  a  chance 
of  a  sympathetic  strike  of  all  trades,  and  that  even  the 
musicians  might  join  in  it,  for  they  had  "grievances 
also." 

"  But  I  thought  Music  was  not  a  trade,  but  a  profes 
sion,  an  art  ? "  I  said,  quoting  a  phrase  I  had  overheard 
him  use.  He  raised  his  shoulders  and  threw  out  his 
hands  palm  upward. 

"Ach!  it  vas  vonee." 

"Then  why  is  it  not  now?" 

"Ach!  Who  knows?  Because  they  vill  not  haf  it 
so.  Ze  music  iss  dead — ze  harmony  iss  all  gone — in  ze 
people— in  ze  heart!  Zere  iss  no  more  music  in  ze 
souls  of  ze  people.  It  iss  monee — monee — monee — 

379 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

fight,  fight,  fight,  all  ze  time!     Who  can  gife  ze  divine 
strain  ven  ze  heart  is  set  on  monee  always?" 

Who,  indeed?  I  thought,  and  the  more  1  thought 
of  it  the  more  clearly  I  felt  that  he  had  touched  the  cen 
tral  truth. 


380 


XXIX 

MY  CONFESSION 

It  is  said  that  every  woman  has  in  her  nature  some 
thing  feline.  I  will  not  venture  on  so  sweeping  an 
assertion;  but  I  will  say  that  one  of  the  sex  was  never 
excelled  by  any  feline  in  her  ability  to  torture  and  her 
willingness  to  tease  the  victim  of  her  charms. 

When  I  met  Eleanor  Leigh  next  after  the  memorable 
session  on  the  dusty  steps,  I  could  not  tell  for  my  life 
what  were  her  feelings  toward  me.  They  were  as 
completely  veiled  as  though  she  had  been  accustomed 
from  her  infancy  to  enfold  herself  in  impenetrable 
mystery.  There  was  a  subtle  change  in  her  manner 
profoundly  interesting  to  me,  but  what  it  denoted  I 
could  not  in  the  least  discover,  and  every  effort  on  my 
part  to  do  so  was  frustrated  with  consummate  art. 
She  did  not  look  at  me  and  at  moments  appeared 
oblivious  of  my  presence.  She  talked  more  than  ever 
before  of  John  Marvel,  varied  at  times  by  admiring 
allusions  to  Leo  Wolffert,  until  I  almost  began  to  hate 
them  both.  And  all  the  while,  she  was  so  exasperatingly 
natural  and  innocent.  A  man  may  be  a  true  friend  to 
another,  ready  to  serve  him  to  the  limit  and  may  wish 
him  all  the  happiness  in  the  world,  and  yet  may  not 
desire  the  girl  who  has  become  his  sun,  moon  and  stars 
to  appear  to  draw  her  light  from  his  source.  So,  pres 
ently,  like  any  other  worm,  I  turned. 

381 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"You  appear  to  think  that  there  is  no  one  else  in  the 
world  like  John  Marvel!"  I  said,  fuming  inwardly. 

"I  do  not.  In  a  way,  he  stands  by  himself.  Why, 
I  thought  you  thought  so  too  ? " 

"Yes,  of  course — I  do — I  mean — I  believe  you  are 
in — '  I  hesitated  to  finish  the  sentence,  and  changed 
it.  "I  believe  you  think  more  of  him  than  of  any  one 
else."  I  did  not  really  believe  this — I  wished  her  to 
deny  it;  but  not  she!  I  was  playing  at  a  game  at 
which  she  was  an  expert  from  her  cradle.  A  subtle 
change  of  expression  passed  over  her  face.  She  gave 
me  a  half  glance,  and  then  looked  down.  She  ap 
peared  to  be  reflecting  and  as  my  eyes  rested  on  her  I 
became  conscious  of  the  same  feeling  of  pleased  wonder 
with  which  we  gaze  into  a  perfectly  clear  fountain  whose 
crystal  depths  we  may  penetrate,  but  not  fathom. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  do,  in  a  way — I  think  him — quite 
wonderful.  He  appears  to  me  the  embodiment  of 
truth — rugged  and  without  grace — but  so  restful — so 
real — so  sincere.  I  feel  that  if  any  great  convulsion  of 
Nature  should  occur  and  everything  should  be  over 
thrown,  as  soon  as  we  emerged  we  should  find  Mr. 
Marvel  there  unchanged — like  Truth  itself,  unchange 
able.  If  ever  I  marry,  it  will  be  to  some  man  like  that 
— simple  and  strong  and  direct  always — a  rock."  She 
gazed  placidly  down  while  this  arrow  quivered  in  my 
heart.  I  wanted  to  say,  "Why,  then,  don't  you  marry 
him?"  But  we  were  already  too  perilously  near  the 
edge  for  me  to  push  matters  further  in  that  direction. 
I  wished  also  to  say,  "Why  don't  you  marry  me?"  but 

382 


MY  CONFESSION 

I  was  not  conscious  at  the  moment  of  any  remarkable 
resemblance  to  a  rock  of  strength. 

I  recall  her  exact  appearance  as  she  waited.  She 
happened  to  be  arrayed  that  afternoon  in  a  dark  red 
dress,  which  fitted  perfectly  her  slim,  supple  form,  and 
her  hat  with  a  dark  feather,  and  her  dark  hair  about 
her  brow  gave  her  an  air  which  reminded  me  of  a  red 
rose.  It  is  not,  however,  the  tint  that  makes  the  rose, 
but  the  rose  itself.  The  rose  is  a  rose,  whether  its  petals 
be  red  or  pink  or  white.  And  such  she  ever  appeared 
to  me.  And  the  thorns  that  I  found  about  her  in  no 
way  detracted  from  her  charms.  Though  I  might  have 
wished  her  less  prone  to  show  them,  I  did  not  find  her 
pursuit  the  less  delicious. 

Just  after  this  I  decided  to  move  my  quarters.  Push 
kin  was  beginning  to  come  again  to  the  old  Drummer's 
house,  I  did  not  know  why — and  though  I  did  not  meet 
him  I  could  not  bear  to  be  under  the  same  roof  with 
him.  I  began  to  feel,  too,  the  change  in  the  house 
hold.  Elsa  had  begun  to  change  somehow.  Instead 
of  the  little  carols  and  snatches  like  bird-songs  that  I 
used  to  hear  before  she  went  to  her  work,  or  in  the  even 
ing  when  she  returned,  there  was  silence  and  some 
times  sighs,  and  in  place  of  smiles,  gloom.  Her  face 
lost  its  bloom.  I  wondered  what  the  poor  thing  was 
distressing  herself  about.  My  young  Swede,  too, 
whom  I  still  occasionally  saw,  appeared  to  have  lost 
that  breezy  freshness  and  glow  which  always  reminded 
me  of  country  meadows  and  upland  hay-fields,  and 
looked  downcast  and  moody.  In  place  of  his  good- 

383 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

humored  smile,  his  ruddy  face  began  to  wear  a  glower 
ing,  sullen  look;  and  finally  he  disappeared.  The 
mother,  also,  changed,  and  her  voice,  formerly  so 
cheery  and  pleasant,  had  a  sharper  tone  than  I  had 
ever  heard  in  it  before,  and  even  the  old  drummer 
wore  a  cloudier  air,  wholly  different  from  his  old- 
time  cheeriness.  In  fact,  the  whole  house  had  changed 
from  the  nest  of  content  that  it  had  been,  and  I  began 
to  plan  moving  to  a  better  neighborhood  which  my 
improving  practice  appeared  to  justify.  The  chief 
thing  that  withheld  me  was  that  radiant  glimpse  of 
Miss  Leigh  which  I  sometimes  got  of  a  morning  as  she 
came  tripping  along  the  street  with  her  little  basket  in 
her  hand,  and  her  face  sweet  with  high  thoughts.  It 
set  me  up  all  day;  attended  me  to  my  office,  and  filled  it 
with  sunshine  and  hope.  Moreover,  I  was  beginning 
to  find  in  my  association  with  John  Marvel  a  certain 
something  which  I  felt  I  should  miss.  He  calmed  me 
and  gave  me  resolution.  It  appeared  strange  that  one 
whom  I  had  always  looked  down  on  should  so  affect 
me,  but  I  could  no  longer  hide  it  from  myself.  But 
against  this  reason  for  remaining  I  set  the  improve 
ment  in  my  condition  that  a  better  lodging-place  would 
indicate.  After  a  time,  my  broad-shouldered  young 
Swedish  car-driver  came  back  and  I  was  glad  I  had 
remained.  Several  times  in  the  evening  I  found  him 
in  the  house  dressed  up  with  shiny  hair,  a  very  bright 
necktie,  and  a  black  coat,  the  picture  of  embarrassed 
happiness,  and  Elsa  sitting  up  and  looking  prim  and, 
I  fancied,  a  trifle  bored,  though  it  might  have  been 

384 


MY  CONFESSION 

only  demureness.  When  I  heard  her  singing  again,  I 
assumed  that  it  was  the  latter  expression,  and  not  the 
former,  which  I  had  observed.  However,  I  came  in 
one  night  and  heard  Pushkin's  voice  in  the  house  and 
I  was  again  at  sea.  Elsa  in  all  the  gayety  of  her  best 
frock  and  ribbons,  dashed  by  me  as  I  mounted  the 
stair  to  my  room. 

The  next  evening  I  was  walking  home  late.  I  came 
on  two  persons  standing  in  the  shadow  in  a  secluded 
spot.  They  stopped  talking  as  I  passed  and  I  thought 
I  heard  my  name  whispered.  I  turned  and  they  were 
Elsa  and  Pushkin.  What  was  he  doing  talking  with  her 
at  that  hour  ?  I  came  near  walking  up  and  denouncing 
him  then  and  there;  but  I  reflected  and  went  on,  and 
when,  a  few  minutes  later,  Elsa  came  in  very  red  and 
scared-looking,  I  congratulated  myself  on  my  self- 
restraint  and  sagacity.  The  next  morning  was  rainy 
and  black,  and  I  took  a  street  car;  and  found  that  the 
motorman  was  my  blue-eyed  young  Swede,  and  that  he 
was  as  dark  and  cloudy  that  morning  as  the  day. 

That  night,  I  heard  Pushkin's  voice  in  the  house 
again,  and  my  old  friend's  reply  to  him  in  a  tone  of 
expostulation.  It  was  hard  not  to  hear  what  Pushkin 
said,  for  the  house  was  like  a  sounding-board.  Pushkin 
was  actually  trying  to  borrow  money — "more  money," 
and  he  gave  as  his  reason  the  absolute  certainty  that 
with  this  stake — "just  this  one  loan,"  he  should  win  an 
heiress — "One  of  the  richest  women  in  all  the  land," 
he  said.  He  urged  as  a  reason  why  the  old  fellow 
should  lend!  it  to  him,  that  they  were  both  from  the  same 

385 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

country,  and  that  his  grandfather,  when  a  Minister  of 
the  Court,  had  appreciated  Loewen's  music  and  helped 
him  to  get  his  first  place. 

"And  he  was  a  shentlemans  like  me,  and  you  nodings 
but  a  common  trummer,  hey?  And — look  here,"  he 
said,  "I  am  going  to  marry  a  great  heiress,  and  then  I 
shall  not  haf  to  borrow  any  more.  I  shall  haf  all  de 
moneys  I  want — my  pockets  full,  and  den  I  vill  pay  you 
one — two — t'ree  times  for  all  you  haf  lend  me,  hein? 
And  now  I,  de  shentlemans,  comes  to  you,  de  common 
trummer,  and  calls  you  mine  friend,  and  swear  to  pay 
you  one — two — t'ree  times  over,  certainlee  you  vill  nod 
refuse  me?" 

The  rest  was  in  the  language  of  their  own  country. 
The  argument  had  its  effect;  for  I  could  hear  the  old 
drummer's  tone  growing  more  and  more  acquiescent 
and  the  other's  laugh  becoming  more  and  more  assured, 
and  finally  I  knew  by  his  voice  that  he  had  succeeded. 

I  came  near  rising  on  the  spot  and  going  in  and  un 
masking  him.  But  I  did  not.  I  determined  to  wait 
until  the  next  morning. 

Next  morning,  however,  when  I  came  down  I  received 
notice  that  my  room  was  no  longer  for  rent.  The  an 
nouncement  came  to  me  from  Mrs.  Loewen,  who  gave 
it  in  her  husband's  name,  and  appeared  somewhat  em 
barrassed.  I  could  not  see  her  husband.  He  had  gone 
out  "  to  meet  a  gentleman,"  she  said.  Her  manner  was 
so  changed  that  I  was  offended,  and  contented  myself 
with  saying  I  would  leave  immediately;  and  I  did  so, 
only  leaving  a  line  addressed  to  my  old  drummer  to 

386 


MY  CONFESSION 

explain  my  departure — I  was  sure  that  their  action  was 
in  some  way  due  to  Pushkin.  In  fact,  I  was  not  sorry 
to  leave  though  I  did  not  like  being  put  out.  My  only 
cause  of  regret  was  that  I  should  miss  my  walk  through 
the  street  where  the  young  school-mistress  was  shining. 
I  am  not  sure  whether  it  was  a  high  motive  or  a  mean 
one  which  made  me,  as  I  left  the  house,  say  to  Mrs. 
Loewen : 

"  You  are  harboring  a  scoundrel  in  that  man  Pushkin. 
Keep  your  eyes  open."  I  saw  a  startled  look  in  her  eyes, 
but  I  did  not  wait  to  explain. 

I  did  not  feel  comfortable  that  evening  as  I  walked 
through  the  streets  to  the  better  quarters  which  I  had 
taken.  I  knew  that  John  Marvel  would  have  said  less 
or  more.  I  half  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  John  and 
lay  the  matter  before  him.  Indeed,  I  actually  deter 
mined  to  do  so.  Other  things,  however,  soon  engrossed 
my  thoughts  and  my  time.  I  had  to  file  my  bill  for  my 
old  ladies.  And  so  this,  like  most  of  my  good  inten 
tions,  faded  away. 

In  fact,  about  this  time  I  was  so  wholly  taken  up  with 
my  love  for  the  entrancing  ideal  that  I  had  clad  in  the 
lineaments  of  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh  and  adorned  with  her 
radiance  and  charm  that  I  had  no  thought  for  anything 
that  was  not  in  some  way  related  to  her.  My  work  was 
suddenly  uplifted  by  becoming  a  means  to  bring  me 
nearer  to  my  ambition  to  win  her.  My  reading  took 
on  new  meaning  in  storing  my  mind  with  lore  or  equip 
ping  it  to  fit  it  for  her  service;  the  outward  form  of 
nature  displayed  new  beauty  because  she  loved  it.  The 

387 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

inward  realm  of  reflection  took  on  new  grace  because  she 
pervaded  it.  In  a  word,  the  whole  world  became  but 
the  home  and  enshrinement  of  one  being,  about  whom 
breathed  all  the  radiance  and  sweetness  that  I  found  in 
it.  All  of  which  meant  simply  that  I  was  truly  in  love. 
Content  with  my  love,  I  lived  in  a  Heaven  whose  charm 
she  created.  But  Love  has  its  winter  and  it  often  fol 
lows  close  on  its  spring.  I  had  played  Fate  again  and 
waylaid  her  one  afternoon  as  she  was  returning  home 
from  an  excursion  somewhere,  and  persuaded  her  to 
prolong  her  walk  with  an  ease  that  lifted  me  quite  out 
of  myself,  and  I  began  to  have  aspirations  to  be  very 
brave  and  good.  I  wished  to  be  more  like  a  rock, 
rugged  and  simple. 

We  were  walking  slowly  and  had  reached  a  park, 
and  I  guilefully  led  her  by  a  roundabout  path  through 
a  part  where  the  shrubbery  made  it  more  secluded  than 
the  rest.  I  can  see  the  spot  now  as  then  I  saw  it:  a 
curving  gray  road  sloping  down  under  overhanging 
trees,  and  a  path  dappled  with  sunlight  dipping  into 
masses  of  shrubbery  with  a  thrush  glancing  through 
them,  like  a  little  brown  sprite  playing  hide-and-seek. 
As  we  neared  a  seat,  I  suggested  that  we  should  sit 
down  and  I  was  pleased  at  the  way  in  which  she  yielded ; 
quite  as  if  she  had  thought  of  it  herself.  It  was  almost 
the  first  time  that  I  had  her  quite  to  myself  in  fair  sur 
roundings  where  we  were  face  to  face  in  body  and  soul. 
I  felt,  somehow,  as  though  I  had  made  a  great  step  up 
to  a  new  and  a  higher  level.  We  had  reached  together 
a  new  resting-place,  a  higher  atmosphere;  almost  a  new 

388 


MY  CONFESSION 

land.  And  the  surroundings  were  fresh  to  me  in  the 
city,  for  we  had  strayed  out  of  the  beaten  track.  I  re 
member  that  a  placid  pool,  shaded  by  drooping  willows 
and  one  great  sycamore,  lay  at  our  feet,  on  which  a 
couple  of  half-domesticated  wild-fowl  floated,  their 
graceful  forms  reflected  in  the  mirror  below  them.  I 
pointed  to  one  and  said,  "  Alcyone,"  and  my  heart 
warmed  when  she  smiled  and  said,  "Yes,  at  peace. 
'The  past  unsighed  for,  and  the  future  sure."3 

A  quotation  from  a  poet  always  pleases  me.  It  is 
as  if  one  found  a  fresh  rose  in  the  street,  and  where  it 
comes  from  the  lips  and  heart  of  a  girl  it  is  as  though 
she  had  uttered  a  rose. 

"Are  you  fond  of  Wordsworth?"  I  asked.  "He 
seems  to  me  very  spiritual." 

"Yes.  In  fact,  I  think  I  am  fond  of  all  poetry.  It 
lifts  me  up  out  of  the  grosser  atmosphere  of  the  world, 
which  I  enjoy,  too,  tremendously — and  seems  to  place 
me  above  and  outside  of  myself.  Some,  even,  that  I 
don't  understand.  I  seem  to  be  borne  on  wings  that  I 
can't  see  into  a  rarer  atmosphere  that  I  can  only  feel, 
but  not  describe." 

"That,"  I  said,  "as  I  understand  it,  is  the  province 
of  poetry — and  also,  perhaps,  its  test." 

"It  has  somewhat  the  same  effect  on  me  that  saying 
my  prayers  has.  I  believe  in  something  infinitely  good 
and  pure  and  blessed.  It  soothes  me.  I  get  into  a 
better  frame  of  mind." 

"I  should  think  your  frame  of  mind  was  always  'a 
better  frame,'"  I  said,  edging  toward  the  personal 

389 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

compliment  and  yet  feeling  as  though  I  were  endanger 
ing  a  beautiful  dream. 

"Oh!  you  don't  know  how  worse  I  can  be — how 
angry — how  savage." 

"Terribly  so,  I  should  think.  You  look  like  an 
ogress." 

"I  feel  like  one  sometimes,  too,"  she  nodded.  "I 
can  be  one  when  I  have  the  provocation." 

"As— for  example?" 

"Well,  let  me  see? — Well, — for  example,  once  — 
oh!  quite  a  time  ago — it  was  just  after  I  met  you— ^ 
the  very  next  day —  (My  heart  bounded  that  she 
could  remember  the  very  next  day  after  meeting 
me — and  should  set  dates  by  that  important  event. 
I  wanted  to  say,  that  is  the  beginning  of  my  era; 
but  I  feared) — "I  got  into  a  dreadful  passion — I  was 
really  ferocious." 

"Terrible,"  I  jested.  "I  suppose  you  would  have 
poisoned  your  slaves,  like  the  old  Roman  Empress— 
What  was  her  name?" 

"I  was  angry  enough." 

"And,  instead,  you  gave  the  cat  milk  in  place  of 
cream,  or  did  some  such  awful  act  of  cruelty." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  did  nothing.  I  only  burned  inwardly 
and  consumed  myself." 

"And  pray,  what  was  the  offence  that  called  forth 
such  wrath,  and  who  was  the  wretch  who  committed  the 
crime?" 

"I  had  sufficient  provocation." 

"Of  course." 

390 


MY  CONFESSION 

"No,  I  mean  really " 

"What?" 

"Why,  it  was  a  piece  that  appeared  in  one  of  the 
morning  papers,  a  vile  scurrilous  sheet  that  had  always 
attacked  my  father  covertly;  but  this  was  the  first  open 
attack,  and  it  was  simply  a  huge  lie.  And  it  has  been 
repeated  again  and  again.  Why,  only  the  other  day 
the  same  paper  republished  it  with  huge  headlines  and 
charged  that  my  father  was  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble 
in  the  city — my  father,  who  is  the  best,  the  kindest,  the 
most  charitable  man  I  ever  knew — who  has  almost 
beggared  himself  trying  to  furnish  facilities  to  the  poor! 
Oh,  I  can't  bear  it!  I  wish  I  had  that  man  under  my 
heel  this  minute!  I  would  just  grind  him  to  powder!  I 
would!"  She  turned,  her  eyes  sparkling,  her  cheeks 
glowing  with  fervor,  her  face  rigid  with  resolution,  her 
white  teeth  shut  together  as  if  they  were  a  trap  to  hold 
her  enemy  till  death.  "Give  the  cat  milk!  I  could 
have  poured  molten  metal  down  that  man's  throat — 
cheerfully — yes,  cheerfully." 

It  may  be  well  believed  that  as  she  proceeded,  the 
amusement  died  out  of  my  face  and  mind.  I  turned 
the  other  way  to  keep  her  from  seeing  the  change  that 
must  have  come  over  me.  I  was  thinking  hard  and  I 
thought  quickly,  as,  'tis  said,  a  drowning  man  thinks. 
Life  and  death  both  flashed  before  me — life  in  her  pres 
ence,  in  the  sunlight  of  those  last  weeks,  and  the  shadow 
of  perpetual  banishment.  But  one  thing  was  certain.  I 
must  act  and  at  once.  I  turned  to  her  and  was  almost 
driven  from  my  determination  by  the  smile  in  her  eyes, 

391 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

the  April  sunlight  after  the  brief  storm.  But  I  seized 
myself  and  took  the  leap. 

"I  wrote  that  piece." 

She  actually  laughed. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  did." 

"I  did — seriously,  I  wrote  it;   but " 

I  saw  the  horror  oversweep  her  face.  It  blanched 
suddenly,  like  the  pallor  on  a  pool  when  a  swift  cloud 
covers  the  sun,  and  her  hand  went  up  to  her  bosom  with 
a  sudden  gesture  as  of  pain. 

"Oh!"  she  gasped.  The  next  second  she  sprang 
up  and  sped  away  like  a  frightened  deer. 

I  sprang  up  to  follow  her,  to  make  my  explanation  to 
her;  but  though,  after  the  first  twenty  steps,  she  stopped 
running  and  came  down  to  a  walk,  it  was  still  a  rapid 
walk,  and  she  was  fleeing  from  me.  I  felt  as  though 
the  gates  of  Paradise  were  closing  on  me.  I  followed 
her  at  a  distance  to  see  that  she  reached  home  safely, 
and  with  a  vain  hope  that  she  might  slacken  her  gait 
and  so  give  me  an  excuse  to  make  such  explanation  as  I 
could.  She,  however,  kept  on,  and  soon  after  she  passed 
beyond  the  park  I  saw  a  trap  draw  up  beside  the  pave 
ment,  and,  after  a  moment  in  which  the  driver  was  talk 
ing  to  her,  a  young  man  sprang  out  and  throwing  the 
reins  to  a  groom,  joined  her  and  walked  on  with  her. 
In  the  light  of  the  street  lamp  I  recognized  young  Can 
ter.  I  turned  back  cursing  him;  but  most  of  all,  cursing 
myself. 

It  has  been  well  observed  that  there  is  no  more  valu 
able  asset  which  a  young  man  can  possess  than  a 

392 


MY  CONFESSION 

broken  heart.  In  the  ensuing  weeks  I  bore  about  with 
me  if  not  a  broken,  at  least  a  very  much  bruised  and 
wounded  one.  It  is  a  tragic  fact  in  the  course  of  mor 
tality  that  a  slip  of  a  girl  should  have  the  power  to  shut 
the  gates  of  happiness  on  a  man.  There  were  times 
when  I  rebelled  against  myself  at  being  as  big  a  fool  as  I 
knew  myself  to  be,  and  endeavored  to  console  myself  by 
reverting  to  those  wise  bits  of  philosophy  which  our 
friends  are  always  offering  to  us  in  our  distress  from 
their  vantage  ground  of  serene  indifference.  There  were 
doubtless  as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  ever  came  out  of  it, 
but  I  was  not  after  fishing — somehow  I  could  not  get  a 
grasp  on  the  idea  that  there  were  as  lovely  and  attrac 
tive  girls  in  the  world  whom  I  was  likely  to  meet  as 
Eleanor  Leigh,  whom  I  now  felt  I  had  lost  and  might 
possibly  never  recover. 

I  walked  the  streets  for  some  time  that  evening  in  a 
very  low  state  of  mind,  and  Dix,  as  he  trudged  solemnly 
along  with  his  head  now  against  my  leg,  now  a  step  in 
the  rear,  must  have  wondered  what  had  befallen  me. 
By  midnight  he  looked  as  dejected  as  I  felt.  Even  when 
at  length,  having  formulated  my  letter,  I  took  him  out 
for  a  run,  he  did  not  cheer  up  as  he  usually  did.  That 
dog  was  very  near  a  human  being.  He  sometimes  ap 
peared  to  know  just  what  went  on  in  my  mind.  He 
looked  so  confoundedly  sorry  for  me  that  night  that  I 
found  it  a  real  consolation.  He  had  the  heart  of  a 
woman  and  the  eyes  of  an  angel.  The  letter  I  wrote 
was  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  advocacy  I  ever  did.  I  set 
forth  the  facts  simply  and  yet  clearly  and,  I  felt,  strongly. 

393 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  told  the  plain  truth  about  the  paper,  and  I  had  the 
sense  not  to  truckle,  even  while  I  expressed  my  regret 
that  my  work  had  been  made  the  basis  of  the  unauthor 
ized  and  outrageous  attack  on  her  father  and  the  lie 
about  herself.  With  regard  to  the  rights  of  the  public 
and  the  arrogance  of  the  class  that  ran  the  railways 
and  other  quasi-public  corporations,  I  stood  to  my  guns. 
This  letter  I  mailed  and  awaited,  with  what  patience 
I  could  command,  her  reply.  Several  days  passed 
before  I  received  any  reply,  and  then  I  got  a  short,  little 
cool  note  saying  that  she  was  glad  to  see  that  I  felt  an 
apology  was  due  to  her  honored  father,  and  was  happy 
to  know  that  I  was  not  the  author  of  the  outrageous 
headlines.  It  was  an  icy  little  reply  to  a  letter  in 
which  I  had  put  my  whole  heart  and  I  was  in  a  rage 
over  it.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  show  her 
that  I  was  not  to  be  treated  so.  If  this  was  the  way  in 
which  she  received  a  gentleman's  full  and  frank  amende, 
why,  I  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  her.  Anger  is  a 
masterful  passion.  So  long  as  it  holds  sway  no  other 
inmate  of  the  mind  can  enter.  So  long  as  I  was  angry 
I  got  on  very  well.  I  enjoyed  the  society  of  my  friends 
and  was  much  gayer  to  outward  appearances  than  usual. 
I  spent  my  evenings  with  Marvel  and  Wolffert  or  some 
of  my  less  intimate  companions,  treated  myself  and 
them  to  the  theatre,  and  made  altogether  a  brave  feint 
at  bravery.  But  my  anger  died  out.  I  was  deeply  in 
love  and  I  fell  back  into  a  slough  of  despond.  I  thought 
often  of  confiding  in  John  Marvel;  but  for  some  reason 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  do  so. 

394 


MY  CONFESSION 

Adam  driven  suddenly  out  of  Paradise  with  Eve  left 
behind  to  the  temptation  of  the  serpent  will  give  some 
idea  of  what  I  felt.  I  had  the  consolation  of  knowing 
that  I  had  done  the  right  thing  and  the  only  thing  a 
gentleman  could  have  done;  but  it  was  a  poor  consola 
tion  when  I  looked  back  on  the  happiness  I  had  been 
having  of  late  in  the  presence  of  Eleanor  Leigh.  And 
now  between  her  and  me  was  the  flaming  sword  which 
turned  every  way. 

My  heart  gave  a  sudden  drop  into  my  boots  one 
evening  when  I  came  across  an  item  in  the  society 
columns  of  an  afternoon  paper,  stating  that  it  was  be 
lieved  by  the  friends  of  the  parties,  that  Mr.  Canter 
would,  before  very  long,  lead  to  the  altar  one  of  the 
reigning  belles  of  the  city.  I  had  always  disliked 
"Society  Columns/'  as  the  expression  of  a  latter-day 
vulgarity.  Since  then  I  have  detested  them. 

I  finally  determined  to  try  to  get  an  interview  with 
her  whose  absence  clouded  my  world,  and  wrote  her  a 
note  rather  demanding  one.  As  I  received  no  reply  to 
this,  I  called  one  evening  to  see  her,  if  possible.  The 
servant  took  in  my  card  and  a  moment  later  returned 
with  the  statement  that  Miss  Leigh  was  not  at  home. 
I  was  sure  that  it  was  not  true.  I  came  down  the  steps 
white  with  rage  and  also  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart. 
For  I  felt  that  it  was  all  over  between  us. 

Those  whom  the  Gods  hate  they  first  make  mad,  and 
it  was  by  no  accident  that  the  passion  of  anger  and  the 
state  of  madness  have  come  to  be  known  by  the  same 
terms  in  our  tongue.  I  have  always  held  since  then 

395 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

that  every  true  lover  has  something  of  madness  in 
him  while  the  passion  rages.  I  could  cheerfully  have 
stormed  her  house  and  carried  Eleanor  Leigh  away. 
I  recalled  with  grim  envy  William  the  Conqueror's 
savage  wooing  when  he  met  the  Count's  daughter  who 
had  insulted  him  and  rode  her  down,  to  receive  soon 
afterward  her  full  submission.  This  somewhat  bar 
barous  form  of  proving  one's  passion  having  passed  out 
of  vogue,  I  testified  my  spleen  by  falling  into  a  state  of 
general  cynicism  which  I  vented  so  generously  that  Wolf- 
fert  finally  asked  me  what  had  happened  to  me,  and 
conjectured  that  I  must  have  met  with  a  cross  in  love. 
This  recalled  me  sufficiently  to  myself  to  make  me  dis 
semble  my  feelings,  at  least  when  in  his  presence.  But 
I  was  certainly  not  rational  for  some  time,  and,  sleeping 
or  waking,  I  was  haunted  by  the  voice  of  the  siren  to 
whom  I  had  fatally  listened.  What  must  I  do  in  my 
folly  the  next  time  I  met  Miss  Leigh,  which  I  did  quite 
accidentally  one  day  on  the  street,  but  carry  my  head 
so  high  and  bow  so  slightly  that  the  next  time  we  met, 
which  was  far  from  being  as  accidental  as  it  might  have 
appeared,  she  carried  her  head  very  high  and  did  not  bow 
at  all.  It  was  at  some  sort  of  a  fair  held  for  charity — 
and,  ever  since  then  I  have  hated  them.  Feeling  as 
sured  that  Eleanor  Leigh  would  go,  I  attended  myself 
with  no  more  charitable  object  than  to  benefit  a  very 
wretched  young  lawyer,  who  was  deeply  conscious  that 
he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself  the  last  time  he  saw  her. 
When  I  arrived,  she  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  and  I  was 
on  the  point  of  leaving  when,  turning,  I  found  her 

396 


MY  CONFESSION 

standing  in  the  midst  of  a  group,  her  arms  full  of 
flowers,  which  she  was  selling.  All  I  have  to  say  is  that 
since  that  time  I  have  felt  that  Pluto  was  entirely  justi 
fied  in  that  little  affair  in  the  Sicilian  meadows.  Think 
ing  to  make  the  amende  for  my  foolish  airiness  when  I 
last  saw  her,  I  made  my  way  up  to  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh ; 
but  as  I  approached  and  was  in  the  very  act  of  speaking 
to  her  she  turned  her  back  on  me.  It  was  a  dead  cut — 
a  public  insult,  as  humiliating  as  she  could  make  it. 
I  left  the  fair  in  a  rage  which  lasted  long.  As  I  wan 
dered  through  the  forlorn  streets  that  night  I  fed  my 
heart  on  instances  of  woman's  inconstancy,  and  agreed 
with  the  royal  lover  that,  "Mai  habil  qui  s'y  fie."  But 
it  was  a  poor  occupation  and  brought  me  little  conso 
lation.  In  his  "Inferno,"  Dante  has  given  twelve 
different  and  successive  circles  in  the  depths  of  perdi 
tion,  each  lower  than  the  other.  I  passed  through  every 
one  of  them,  and  with  no  companion  but  my  own  folly. 


397 


XXX 

SEEKING    ONE   THAT    WAS    LOST 

One  may  not  hate  his  personal  enemy;  but  one  should 
hate  an  enemy  to  mankind.  Had  I  known  what  fresh 
cause  I  had  to  hate  Pushkin,  I  should  not  have  been  so 
supine. 

Since  I  began  to  work  seriously  my  practice  had  in 
creased,  and  I  was  so  interested  in  working  on  my  old 
ladies'  case  that  I  was  often  detained  at  my  office  until 
late  at  night;  and  several  times  on  my  way  home  I 
observed  a  man  acting  somewhat  curiously.  He  would 
keep  along  behind  me,  and  if  I  turned  back,  would  turn 
up  a  by-street  or  alley.  He  was  a  big,  brawny  fellow, 
and  I  never  saw  him  except  at  night.  At  first,  it  had 
made  no  impression  on  me;  but  at  length,  I  noticed  him 
so  often  that  it  suddenly  struck  me  that  he  was  follow 
ing  me.  Rendered  suspicious  by  my  former  experience, 
I  began  quietly  to  test  him,  and  was  having  a  very  in 
teresting  time  leading  him  around  the  town,  when  un 
expectedly  I  discovered  who  he  was.  It  was  a  singular 
feeling  to  find  oneself  shadowed;  to  discover  that  the 
man  who  has  passed  all  others  indifferently  in  the  crowd 
has  singled  you  out  and  follows  you,  bound  to  you  by 
some  invisible  thread,  tracking  you  through  the  laby 
rinth  of  the  thoroughfares;  disregarding  all  the  thou 
sands  who  pass  with  their  manifold  interests  and  affairs, 

398 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

and  that,  singling  you  out  with  no  known  reason,  he 
sticks  to  you  through  all  the  mazes  of  the  multitudes. 
It  comes  to  you  gradually,  dawning  by  degrees;  then 
bursts  on  you  suddenly  with  a  light  that  astonishes 
and  amazes.  You  are  startled,  frightened,  incredulous; 
then  you  suspect,  test,  and  are  convinced ;  you  suddenly 
spring  from  obscurity  and  indifference  into  an  object 
of  interest  to  yourself;  and  then  it  becomes  an  intellec 
tual  game  between  hunter  and  hunted.  New  powers 
awaken,  dormant  since  the  days  when  man  lived  in  the 
forest. 

When  I  awoke  to  the  fact  that  the  big  man  I  had 
noticed  was  following  me,  for  a  moment  the  sensation 
was  anything  but  pleasant.  My  hair  almost  stirred  on 
my  head.  The  next  moment  anger  took  the  place  of 
this  feeling — indignation  that  one  should  dare  to  shadow 
me,  to  spy  on  my  actions.  I  determined  to  confront 
the  spy  and  thwart  him.  It  was  not  difficult  to  do;  he 
was  an  awkward  fellow.  The  game  was  easier  than  I 
had  supposed.  One  night  when  I  had  observed  him 
following  me,  waiting  until  I  reached  a  favorable  spot, 
I  turned  quickly  with  my  hand  on  my  pistol,  which  I 
had  put  in  my  pocket,  and  faced  him  under  a  street 
lamp,  stepping  immediately  in  front  of  him  and  block 
ing  his  way. 

"Otto!" 

With  a  growl  he  pulled  his  hat  down  closer  over  his 
brow  and,  stepping  aside,  passed  on.  I  went  home  in 
a  maze.  Why  should  he  follow  me?  I  had  not  long 
to  wait  before  I  was  enlightened. 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

One  evening  shortly  afterward  I  was  about  to  leave 
my  office  when  there  was  a  heavy  step  outside  the  door, 
and  without  a  knock  the  door  flew  open,  and  the  old 
Drummer  entered.  He  looked  so  haggard  and  broken 
that  I  was  on  my  feet  in  a  second. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  I  gasped.  "  Is  any  one  dead  ?  " 
"Vorser!  Elsa?— Vere  iss  Elsa?"    He  stood  before 
me  like  a  wounded  bison  at  bay,  his  eyes  red  with  pas 
sion. 

"Elsa!    What!— Where  is  she?'    Tell  me ?' 

"Fhat  haf  you  done  vit  my  daughter  ?" 
"Your  daughter!     What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked 
quietly.     "I  have  not  seen  her  since  I  left  your  house. 
Tell  me  what  has  occurred." 

He  soon  saw  that  I  knew  nothing  of  her,  and  his  face 
changed.  Yet  he  hesitated. 

"Ze  Count  said — "  He  began  hesitatingly  and 
stopped,  thinking  over  something  in  his  mind. 

It  all  came  to  me  in  a  second.  That  scoundrel!  It 
was  all  accounted  for  now — the  change  in  the  family 
toward  me — the  notice  to  leave — the  spying  of  Otto. 
Count  Pushkin  had  used  me  as  a  blind  to  cover  his  own 
wickedness.  I  suddenly  burst  out  into  a  wrath  which 
opened  the  old  Drummer's  eyes.  What  I  said  of  Push 
kin  cannot  be  repeated.  What  I  proceeded  to  do  was 
wiser.  Why  had  I  not  pitched  him  out  of  the  window 
that  first  evening,  and  so  have  ended  his  wicked  career! 
I  felt  as  if  I  were  the  cause  of  my  friend's  wretchedness; 
of  Elsa's  destruction.  I  sat  the  old  fellow  down  in  a 
chair,  and  made  him  tell  me  all  the  facts. 

400 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

He  informed  me  that  for  some  time  past  he  and  her 
mother  had  noticed  that  Elsa  had  not  been  the  same  to 
Otto,  and  Otto  had  been  unhappy,  and  had  thrown  up 
his  place;  then  she  had  wished  to  break  with  him;  but 
they  would  not  let  her.  And  of  late  she  had  been  stay 
ing  out  a  good  deal,  visiting  her  friends,  she  said,  and 
when  they  urged  her  to  marry  Otto,  she  had  always 
begged  off,  and  Otto  was  wretched,  and  they  were  all 
wretched.  Count  Pushkin  had  intimated  that  she  was 
in  love  with  me,  and  that  I  was  the  cause  of  her  action. 
They  could  not  believe  it. 

"Yet,  ze  Count—  ?"  The  old  fellow  was  not  able 
to  go  on.  I  relieved  him  and  he  took  up  the  thread 
elsewhere,  and  told  of  Otto's  following  me  to  find  out. 
And  two  or  three  nights  before  there  had  been  trouble; 
she  had  come  in  late,  and  her  mother  had  scolded  her, 
and  insisted  on  knowing  where  she  had  been,  and  she 
had  told  her  a  lie — and  they  had  insisted  on  her  carrying 
out  her  agreement  with  Otto,  to  which  she  assented. 
And  this  morning  she  was  missing. 

The  old  fellow  broke  down  again.  His  grief  was 
almost  more  for  Otto  than  for  himself.  "He  iss  a 
good  boy;  he  iss  a  good  boy,"  he  repeated  again  and 
again. 

"Maybe,  we  were  too  harsh  with  her,  sir,  and  now 
she  may  be  dead."  He  was  overcome  by  grief. 

I  did  not  believe  she  was  dead;  but  I  feared  for  her 
a  worse  fate.  He  still  did  not  suspect  Pushkin.  The 
Count  was  his  friend,  he  said;  he  had  known  him  since 
his  boyhood. 

401 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  will  find  her,"  I  said.  And  I  knew  I  should  if  I 
had  to  choke  the  truth  out  of  Pushkin's  throat. 

"  If  you  do,  I  vill  bless  you,  and  her  mother  vill,  too! " 

I  told  him  to  go  home  and  console  her  mother. 

"She  has  gone  to  see  the  preacher.  He  will  know 
how  to  console  her — and  he  will  help  her  also." 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  to  the  police  ? " 

"Oh!  Ze  police!  Ze  police!  Efery  one  say  'Ze 
police!'  Ze  police  vill  nod  do  notings  for  me.  I  ham 
nod  von  Union-man.  Zay  haf  zeir  orders.  Ven  I  hax 
ze  police  zay  say,  '  Don't  vorry,  Elsa  vill  come  home 
by-m-by,  ven  she  get  readee."' 

I  had  heard  the  same  thing  said  about  the  police, 
and  recalled  what  I  had  heard  McSheen  say  to  Wring- 
man  about  keeping  them  from  interfering.  But  I  felt 
that  they  were  probably  right  in  their  views  about  Elsa. 

I  had  recourse  to  my  detective  again,  and  gave  him 
all  the  information  I  possessed. 

"Oh!  We'll  find  out  where  she  is,"  he  said,  with 
that  inscrutably  placid  look  on  his  face  which  I  had 
learned  was  the  veil  under  which  he  masked  both  his 
feelings  and  his  purposes.  "You  can  tell  her  father 
she  isn't  dead."  This  in  answer  to  the  old  man's  sug 
gestion  that  she  had  been  murdered,  which  I  had  re 
peated.  Then  he  added,  "But  there  are  worse  things 
than  death." 

His  eyes  glistened  and  he  buttoned  up  his  coat  in  a 
way  he  had  when  there  was  any  sharp  work  on  hand. 
It  always  reminded  me  of  a  duellist.  In  a  few  days  he 
had  a  clew  to  the  lost  girl,  and  justified  my  suspicions. 

402 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

It  was  as  I  feared.  Pushkin  had  inveigled  her  from 
her  home  and  had  taken  her  to  a  house  which,  if  not 
precisely  what  I  apprehended,  was  not  less  vile.  It 
was  one  of  those  doubly  disreputable  places  which, 
while  professing  to  be  reasonably  respectable,  is  really 
more  dangerous  than  the  vilest  den.  The  girl  was  pos 
sibly  not  actually  at  the  place  now,  but  had  been  there. 
Getting  some  suspicion  of  the  place,  she  had  insisted 
on  leaving,  but  the  woman  of  the  house,  said  Langton, 
knew  where  she  was. 

"She  is  a  hard  one  to  handle.     She  has  protection. " 

"Of  the  police?" 

"Of  those  who  control  the  police.  She  has  powerful 
friends." 

"I  don't  care  how  powerful  they  are,  I  will  get  that 
girl,"  I  said. 

I  hesitated  what  to  do.  I  had  not  wholly  abandoned 
hope  of  making  up  my  trouble  with  Eleanor  Leigh.  I 
did  not  wish  my  name  to  be  mixed  up  in  a  scandal 
which  probably  would  get  into  the  papers.  I  deter 
mined  to  consult  John  Marvel,  and  I  said  so  to  Langton. 

"You  mean  the  preacher?  Won't  do  any  harm. 
He's  straight.  He's  helping  to  hunt  for  her,  too.  I 
saw  him  just  after  I  located  her,  and  he  had  already 
heard." 

I  determined  to  go  and  see  him,  and  told  Langton  to 
keep  on  following  up  his  clew.  When  I  went  to  Mar 
vel's  house,  however,  he  was  not  at  home.  He  had 
been  away  all  day,  since  early  morning,  the  girl  who 
opened  the  door  told  me.  I  went  to  the  police  station. 

403 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Marvel  had  been  there  and  made  a  complaint  about  a 
house,  and  they  were  going  to  send  a  man  around  to 
investigate. 

He  was  a  terrible  crank,  that  preacher  was,  but  all 
the  same  he  was  a  good  sort  of  a  fellow,  the  officer  said. 
Some  people  thought  he  was  too  meddlesome  and 
mixed  up  too  much  with  affairs  that  did  not  concern 
him,  but  for  his  part,  he  had  seen  him  do  things  and  go 
where  it  took  a  man  to  go.  As  the  officer  was  going 
in  a  short  while,  I  determined  to  accompany  him,  so 
waited  an  hour  or  so  till  he  was  detailed,  and  then 
set  out.  When  we  arrived  the  place,  for  all  outward 
signs  of  evil,  might  have  been  a  home  for  retired 
Sunday-school  teachers — a  more  decent  and  respect 
able  little  hotel  in  a  quiet  street  could  not  have  been 
found  in  town.  Only  the  large  woman,  with  height 
ened  complexion,  Mrs.  Snow,  who,  at  length,  appeared 
in  answer  to  the  summons  of  the  solemn  officer,  seemed 
to  be  excited  and  almost  agitated.  She  was  divided 
between  outraged  modesty  and  righteous  indignation. 
The  former  was  exhibited  rather  toward  me,  the  latter 
toward  the  officer.  But  this  was  all.  She  swore  by  all 
the  Evangelists  that  she  knew  nothing  of  the  girl,  and 
with  yet  more  vehemence  that  she  would  have  justice 
for  this  outrage.  She  would  "report  the  officer  to  the 
Captain  and  to  his  Honor  the  Mayor,  and  have  the 
whole  — th  precinct  fired."  The  officer  was  very 
apologetic.  All  we  learned  was  that,  "A  lady  had 
been  brought  there  by  a  gentleman  who  said  he  was 
her  husband,  but  she  had  refused  to  let  her  in.  She 

404 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

did  not  take  in  people  she  did  not  know."  As  there 
was  nothing  to  incriminate  her,  we  left  with  apologies. 
The  strongest  ally  a  man  can  enlist  in  any  cause  is 
a  clear-headed,  warm-hearted  woman.  In  all  moral 
causes  they  form  the  golden  guard  of  the  forces  that 
carry  them  through.  John  Marvel's  absence  when  1 
called  to  consult  him  was  due  to  his  having  got  on  the 
trace  of  Elsa.  Another  of  my  friends  had  also  got  on  her 
trace,  and  while  I  was  hesitating  and  thinking  of  my 
reputation,  they  were  acting.  As  soon  as  he  learned  of 
Elsa's  disappearance  he  consulted  the  wisest  counsellor 
he  knew.  He  went,  with  rare  good  sense,  to  Eleanor 
Leigh.  He  had  a  further  reason  for  going  to  her  than 
merely  to  secure  her  aid.  He  had  heard  my  name  con 
nected  with  the  affair,  and  old  John  had  gone  to  set  me 
straight  with  her.  He  did  not  know  of  the  trouble  at 
the  Charity  Fair,  and  Miss  Leigh  did  not  enlighten  him. 
Miss  Eleanor  Leigh,  having  learned  through  Marvel 
that  the  Loewens  were  in  great  trouble,  as  soon  as  her 
school  was  out  that  day,  went  to  the  Loewens'  house  to 
learn  what  she  could  of  the  girl,  with  a  view  to  render 
ing  all  the  aid  she  could.  A  new  force  had  been  aroused 
in  her  by  John  Marvel.  Precisely  what  she  learned  I 
never  knew,  but  it  was  enough,  with  what  she  had 
gleaned  elsewhere,  to  lead  to  action.  What  she  had 
learned  elsewhere  pointed  to  a  certain  place  in  town  as 
one  where  she  might  secure  further  information.  It 
was  not  a  very  reputable  place — in  fact,  it  was  a  very 
disreputable  place — part  saloon,  part  dance-hall,  part 
everything  else  that  it  ought  not  to  have  been.  It  was 

405 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

one  of  the  vilest  dens  in  this  city  of  Confusion,  and  the 
more  vile  because  its  depths  were  screened  beneath  a 
mass  of  gilding  and  tinsel  and  glitter.  It  lay  on  one  of 
the  most  populous  streets  and,  dazzling  with  electric 
lights,  furnished  one  of  the  showiest  places  on  that 
street.  It  was  known  as  "The  Gallery,"  an  euphem 
ism  to  cover  a  line  of  glaring  nude  figures  hung  on  the 
walls,  which,  by  an  arrangement  of  mirrors,  were  multi 
plied  indefinitely.  Its  ostensible  owner  was  the  same 
Mr.  Mick  Raffity,  who  kept  the  semi-respectable  saloon 
opening  on  the  alley  at  the  back  of  the  building  where  I 
had  my  office.  Its  keeper  was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Raffity's, 
by  the  name  of  Gallagin,  a  thin,  middle-aged  person 
with  one  eye,  but  that  an  eye  like  a  gimlet,  a  face  im 
pervious  to  every  expression  save  that  which  it  habitu 
ally  wore:  a  mixture  of  cunning  and  ferocity. 

The  place  was  crowded  from  a  reasonable  hour  in 
the  evening  till  an  unreasonable  hour  in  the  morning, 
and  many  a  robbery  and  not  a  few  darker  crimes  were 
said  to  have  been  planned,  and  some  perpetrated, 
around  its  marble  tables. 

At  the  side,  in  a  narrow  street,  was  a  private  entrance 
and  stairway  leading  to  the  upper  stories,  over  the  door 
of  which  was  the  sign,  "Ladies*  Entrance."  And  at 
the  rear  was  what  was  termed  by  Mr.  Gallagin,  a 
"Private  Hotel." 

Young  women  thronged  the  lower  floor  at  all  hours 
of  the  night,  but  no  woman  had  ever  gone  in  there  and 
not  come  out  a  shade  worse,  if  possible,  than  when  she 
entered.  The  Salvation  Army  had  attempted  the  clos- 

406 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

ing  of  this  gilded  Augean  Stable,  but  had  retired 
baffled.  Now  and  then  a  sporadic  effort  had  been 
made  in  the  press  to  close  or  reform  it,  but  all  such  at 
tempts  had  failed.  The  place  was  "protected."  The 
police  never  found  anything  amiss  there,  or,  if  they  did, 
were  promptly  found  to  have  something  amiss  with 
their  own  record.  To  outward  appearance  it  was  on 
occasions  of  inspection  as  decorous  as  a  meeting-house. 
It  was  shown  that  the  place  had  been  offered  for  Sunday 
afternoon  services,  and  that  such  services  had  actually 
been  held  there.  In  fact,  a  Scripture-text  hung  on  the 
wall  on  such  occasions,  while  close  at  hand  hung  the 
more  secular  notice  that  "No  excuse  whatever  would 
be  taken  if  one  lady  or  gentleman  took  another  lady's 
or  gentleman's  hat  or  wrap." 

This  gilded  saloon  on  the  evening  of  the  day  I  called 
on  John  Marvel  was,  if  anything,  more  crowded  than 
usual,  and  into  it  just  as  it  was  beginning  to  grow  gay 
and  the  clouds  of  cigarette  and  cigar  smoke  were  begin 
ning  to  turn  the  upper  atmosphere  to  a  dull  gray; 
just  as  the  earlier  hum  of  voices  was  giving  place  to 
the  shrieking  laughter  and  high  screaming  of  half- 
sodden  youths  of  both  sexes,  walked  a  young  woman. 
She  was  simply  dressed  in  a  street  costume,  but  there 
was  that  about  her  trim  figure,  erect  carriage,  and  grave 
face  which  marked  her  as  different  from  the  gaudy 
sisterhood  who  frequented  that  resort  of  sin,  and  as  she 
passed  up  through  the  long  room  she  instantly  at 
tracted  attention. 

The  wild  laughter  subsided,  the  shrieks  died  down, 
407 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

and  as  if  by  a  common  impulse  necks  were  craned  to 
watch  the  newcomer,  and  the  conversation  about  the 
tables  suddenly  hushed  to  a  murmur,  except  where  it 
was  broken  by  the  outbreak  of  some  half-drunken 
youth. 

"Who  is  she?  What  is  she?"  were  questions  asked 
at  all  tables,  along  with  many  other  questions  and 
answers,  alike  unprintable  and  incredible.  The  gen 
eral  opinion  expressed  was  that  she  was  a  new  and 
important  addition  to  the  soiled  sisterhood,  probably 
from  some  other  city  or  some  country  town,  and  com 
ments  were  freely  bandied  about  as  to  her  future  desti 
nation  and  success.  Among  the  throng,  seated  at  one 
of  the  tables,  was  a  large  man  with  two  bedizened 
young  women  drinking  the  champagne  he  was  freely 
offering  and  tossing  off  himself,  and  the  women  stopped 
teasing  him  about  his  diamond  ring,  and  rallied  him 
on  his  attention  to  the  newcomer,  as  with  head  up,  lips 
compressed,  eyes  straight  before  her,  and  the  color 
mounting  in  her  cheek,  she  passed  swiftly  up  the  room 
between  the  tables  and  made  her  way  to  the  magnifi 
cent  bar  behind  which  Mr.  Gallagin  presided,  w  th  his 
one  eye  ever  boring  into  the  scene  before  him.  Walking 
up  to  the  bar  the  stranger  at  once  addressed  Mr. 
Gallagin. 

"Are  you  the  proprietor  here?" 

"Some  folks  says  so.     What  can  I  do  for  yer?" 

"I  have  come  to  ask  if  there  is  not  a  young  woman 
here — ?"  She  hesitated  a  moment,  as  the  barkeepers 
all  had  their  eyes  on  her  and  a  number  of  youths  had 

408 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

come  forward  from  the  tables  and  were  beginning  to 
draw  about  her.  Mr.  Gallagin  filled  in  the  pause. 

"Quite  a  number,  but  not  one  too  many.  In  fact, 
there  is  just  one  vacancy,  and  I  think  you  are  the  very 
peach  to  fill  it."  His  discolored  teeth  gleamed  for  a 
second  at  the  murmur  of  approval  which  came  from 
the  men  who  had  drawn  up  to  the  bar. 

"I  came  to  ask,"  repeated  the  girl  quietly,  "if  there 
is  not  a  young  woman  here  named  Elsa  Loewen." 

The  proprietor's  one  eye  fixed  itself  on  her  with  an 
imperturbable  gaze.  "Well,  I  don't  know  as  there  is," 
he  drawled.  "You  see,  there  is  a  good  many  young 
women  here,  and  I  guess  they  have  a  good  many  names 
among  'em.  But  may  I  ask  you  what  you  want  with 
her?" 

"I  want  to  get  her  and  take  her  back  to  her  home." 

Mr.  Gallagin 's  eye  never  moved  from  her  face. 

"Well,  you  can  look  around  and  see  for  yourself," 
he  said  quietly. 

"No,  I  don't  think  she  would  be  here,  but  have  you 
not  a  sort  of  a  hotel  attached  to  your  place  ? " 

"  Oh !  Yes,"  drawled  Mr.  Gallagin.  "  I  can  furnish 
you  a  room,  if  you  have  any  friends — and  if  you  haven't 
a  friend,  I  might  furnish  you  one  or  two  of  them." 

"No,  I  do  not  wish  a  room." 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  the  proprietor. 

"I  wish  to  see  Elsa  Loewen,  and  I  have  heard  that 
she  is  here." 

"Oh!  you  have,  and  who  may  be  your  informant?" 
demanded  the  barkeeper,  coldly.  "I'd  like  to  know 

409 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

what  gentleman  has  sufficient  interest  in  me  to  make 
me  the  subject  of  his  conversation." 

"I  cannot  give  you  my  informant,  but  I  have  infor 
mation  that  she  is  here,  and  I  appeal  to  you  to  let  me 
see  her." 

"To  me?  You  appeal  to  me?"  Mr.  Gallagin  put 
his  hand  on  his  thin  chest  and  nodded  toward  him 
self. 

"Yes,  for  her  mother;  her  father.  She  is  a  good 
girl.  She  is  their  only  daughter.  They  are  distracted 
over  her — disappearance.  If  you  only  knew  how  ter 
rible  it  is  for  a  young  girl  like  that  to  be  lured  away 
from  home  where  every  one  loves  her,  to  be  deceived, 
betrayed,  dragged  down  while— 

The  earnestness  of  her  tone  more  than  the  words  she 
uttered,  and  the  strangeness  of  her  appeal  in  that  place, 
had  impressed  every  one  within  reach  of  her  voice,  and 
quite  a  throng  of  men  and  women  had  left  the  tables 
and  pressed  forward  listening  to  the  conversation,  and 
for  the  most  part  listening  in  silence,  the  expression  on 
their  faces  being  divided  between  wonder,  sympathy, 
and  expectancy,  and  a  low  murmur  began  to  be  audi 
ble  among  the  women,  hardened  as  they  were.  Mr. 
Gallagin  felt  that  it  was  a  crucial  moment  in  his  busi 
ness.  Suddenly  from  under  the  fur  came  the  fierce 
claw  and  made  a  dig  to  strike  deep. 

"To  hell  with  you,  you  d d  !  I  know  you 

and  your  d d  sort — I  know  what  you  want,  and  you'll 

get  it  in  one  minute.  Out  of  my  place,  or  I'll  pitch  you 
in  the  gutter  or  into  a  worse  hole  yet!"  He  made  a 

410 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

gesture  with  one  hand  such  as  a  cat  makes  with  its 
claws  out. 

A  big  man  with  a  hard  gleam  in  his  eye  moved  along 
the  edge  of  the  bar,  his  face  stolid  and  his  eyes  on  the 
newcomer,  while  the  throng  fell  back  suddenly  and 
left  the  girl  standing  alone  with  a  little  space  about  her, 
her  face  pale,  and  her  mouth  drawn  close  under  the  un 
expected  assault.  In  another  second  she  would,  with 
out  doubt,  have  been  thrown  out  of  the  place,  or  possibly 
borne  off  to  that  worse  fate  with  which  she  had  been 
threatened.  But  from  the  throng  to  her  side  stepped 
out  a  short,  broad-shouldered  man,  with  a  sodden  face. 

"Speak  her  soft,  Galley, you!  You  know 

who  she  is !  That  is  the  Angel  of  the  Lost  Children. 

Speak  her  soft  or you!  you'll  have  to  throw 

me  out,  too."  The  sodden  face  took  on  suddenly  a 
resolution  that  gave  the  rough  a  look  of  power,  the 
broad  shoulders  were  those  of  an  athlete,  and  the  steady 
eye  was  that  of  a  man  to  be  reckoned  with — and  such 
was  "Red  Talman"  when  aroused. 

The  name  he  had  given  was  repeated  over  the  throng 
by  many,  doubtless,  who  had  not  heard  of  her,  but 
there  were  others  who  knew,  and  told  of  the  work  that 
Eleanor  Leigh  had  been  doing  in  quarters  where  any 
other  woman  of  her  class  and  kind  had  never  showed 
her  face;  of  help  here  and  there;  a  hand  lent  to  lift  a 
fallen  girl ;  of  succor  in  some  form  or  another  when  all 
hope  appeared  to  be  gone. 

It  was  a  strange  champion  who  had  suddenly  stepped 
forward  into  the  arena  to  protect  her,  but  the  girl  felt 

411 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

immediately  that  she  was  safe.  She  turned  to  her 
champion. 

"I  thank  you,"  she  said  simply.  "If  you  wish  to 
help  me,  help  me  get  hold  of  this  poor  girl  whom  I  have 
come  for.  Ask  him  to  let  me  see  her,  if  only  for  one 
moment,  and  I  may  save  her  a  life  of  misery." 

The  man  turned  to  the  proprietor.  "Why  don't 
you  let  her  see  the  girl  ?"  he  said. 

Gallagin  scowled  at  him  or  winked,  it  could  scarcely 

be  told  which.     "What  the  is  it  to  you?    Why 

can't  you  keep  your  mouth  for  your  own  business 
instead  of  interfering  with  other  folks?  You  have 
seen  trouble  enough  doing  that  before." 

"Let  her  see  the  girl." 

"What  business  is  it  of  yours  whether  I  do  or  not?" 

"Just  this — that  when  I  was  away  and  my  wife  was 
starving  and  you  never  givin'  her  nothin',  and  my  little 
gal  was  dyin',  this  here  lady  came  there  and  took  care 
of  'em — and  that's  what  makes  it  my  business.  I 
don't  forgit  one  as  helped  me,  and  you  know  it." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  this,  there  ain't  no  gal  of  that 
name  here.  I  don't  know  what  she's  talkin'  about." 

"Oh!     Come  off!     Let  her  see  the  gal." 

"You  go  up  there  and  look  for  yourself,"  said  the 
proprietor.  "Take  her  with  you  if  you  want  to  and 
keep  her  there." 

"Shut  your  mouth,  d n  you!"  said  Talman.    He 

turned  to  Miss  Leigh. 

"She  ain't  here,  lady.  He'd  never  let  me  go  up 
there  if  she  was  there.  But  I'll  help  you  find  her  if 

412 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

you'll  tell  me  about  her.     You  can  go  home  now.     I'll 
see  you  safe." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  said  the  girl.  "My  carriage  is 
not  far  off."  and  with  a  pleasant  bow  and  a  word  of 
renewed  supplication  to  the  proprietor,  whose  eye  was 
resting  on  her  with  a  curious,  malign  expression,  she 
turned  and  passed  back  through  the  room,  with  her  gaze 
straight  ahead  of  her,  while  every  eye  in  the  room  was 
fastened  on  her;  and  just  behind  her  walked  the  squatty 
figure  of  Red  Talman.  A  few  doors  off  a  carriage 
waited,  and  as  she  reached  the  door  she  turned  and 
gave  him  the  name  of  the  girl  she  was  seeking,  with  a 
little  account  of  the  circumstances  of  her  disappear 
ance  and  of  her  reason  for  thinking  she  might  be  at 
Gallagin's  place.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  the  man 
behind  her. 

"I  don't  know  your  name  or  what  you  alluded  to, 
but  if  I  can  ever  help  any  of  your  friends  I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  do  what  I  can  for  them." 

"My  name's  Talman.  You've  already  done  me  a 
turn." 

"'Talman!'  'Red—'!  Are  you  the  father  of  my 
little  girl?" 

"That's  me." 

"What  I  said  just  now  I  mean.  If  you  want  help, 
let  me  know,  or  go  and  see  Mr.  Marvel,  the  preacher, 
on  the  West  side — you  know  him — and  you  will  get  it. 
And  if  you  can  find  anything  of  that  poor  girl  I  shall  be 
eternally  grateful  to  you.  Good-night." 

"Good-night,  ma'am." 

413 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

The  man  watched  the  carriage  until  it  had  disap 
peared  around  the  corner  and  then  he  returned  to  th( 
saloon.  He  walked  up  to  the  bar,  and  Gallagin  ad 
vanced  to  meet  him. 

"If  you  are  lyin'  to  me,"  he  said,  "you  better  not  let 
me  know,  but  you  better  git  that  gal  out  of  your  place 
and  into  her  home,  or  the  first  thing  you  know  there 
will  be  a  sign  on  that  door." 

The  other  gave  a  snarl. 

"I  am  puttin'  you  wise,"  said  Talman.  "There's 
trouble  brewing.  That's  big  folks  lookin'  for  her." 

"I  guess  Coll  McSheen  is  somethin'  in  this  town 
still.  But  for  him  you  wouldn'  be  walkin'  around." 

"But  for—!  He's  a  has-been,"  said  Talman.  "He's 
shot  his  bolt." 

"You  ought  to  know,"  sneered  Gallagin. 

"I  do." 

"That  the  reason  you  take  no  more  jobs?" 

"It's  a  good  one." 

"Have  a  drink,"  said  Gallagin,  with  a  sudden  change 
of  manner,  and  he  did  him  the  honor  to  lift  a  bottle  and 
put  it  on  the  bar. 

"I  ain't  drinkin'.     I've  got  work  to  do." 

"Who's  your  new  owner?" 

"Never  mind,  he's  a  man.  Send  the  gal  home  01 
you'll  be  pulled  before  twenty-four  hours." 

"You're  runnin'  a  Sunday-school,  ain't  you?" 

"No,  but  I'm  done  workin'  for  some  folks.     That'- 
all.     So  long.     Git  her  out  of  your  house  if  she's  here 
Git  her  out  of  your  house." 

414 


SEEKING  ONE  THAT  WAS  LOST 

He  walked  down  the  room,  and  as  he  passed  a  table 
the  big  man  with  the  two  women  accosted  him. 

"Who's  your  friend?"  he  asked  with  a  sneer.  It 
was  Wringman,  who  having  finished  his  labors  for  the 
day  in  proving  to  famished  strikers  how  mu.ch  better 
off  they  were  than  formerly,  was  now  refreshing  himself 
in  one  of  his  favorite  haunts,  at  his  favorite  occupation. 

Talman  stopped  and  looked  at  him  quietly,  then  he 
said:  "That  man  up  there"— with  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder  he  pointed  toward  the  bar — "that  man  there 
has  been  a  friend  of  mine  in  the  past  and  he  can  ask  me 
questions  that  I  don't  allow  folks  like  you  to  ask  me. 
See?  I  have  known  a  man  to  git  his  neck  broke  by 
buttin'  too  hard  into  other  folks'  business.  See?" 

Wringman,  with  an  oath,  started  to  get  out  of  his 
chair,  but  his  companions  held  him  down,  imploring 
him  to  be  quiet,  and  the  next  moment  the  big  bouncer 
from  the  bar  was  standing  beside  the  table,  and  after 
a  word  with  him  Talman  made  his  way  through  the 
crowd  and  walked  out  of  the  door. 

The  bar-keeper  beckoned  to  his  bouncer  and  the  two 
held  a  muttered  conference  at  the  end  of  the  bar.  "  He's 
gittin'  too  big  for  his  breeches,"  said  the  bar-keeper  as 
he  turned  away.  "  He'll  git  back  there  if  he  fools  with 
me  and  pretty  quick  too." 


415 


XXXI 

JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

Had  any  one  of  the  many  detectives  who  were  en 
gaged  in  all  sorts  of  work,  legitimate  and  otherwise,  in 
the  limits  of  that  great  city,  been  watching  among  the 
half-sodden  group  of  loafers  and  night-walkers  who 
straggled  through  the  side  street  on  which  opened  the 
"Ladies'  Entrance"  of  Mr.  Gallagin's  establishment 
along  toward  the  morning  hours,  he  might  have  seen  a 
young  woman  brought  from  the  door  of  the  "  ladies' 
entrance,"  supported  by  two  persons,  one  a  man  and  one 
a  woman,  and  bodily  lifted  into  a  disreputable  looking 
hack  of  the  type  known  as  a  "night-hawk,"  while  the 
dingy  passers-by  laughed  among  themselves  and  dis 
cussed  how  much  it  had  taken  to  get  the  young  woman 
as  drunk  as  that.  But  there  was  no  detective  or  other 
officer  on  that  street  at  that  hour,  and  but  for  the  fact 
that  a  short,  squatty  man,  nursing  a  grievance  against 
an  old  pal  of  his,  and  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  un 
expected  kindness  of  a  young  woman  and  a  threadbare 
preacher  in  an  hour  when  all  the  rest  of  the  world — 
even  his  pals  in  iniquity — appeared  to  have  turned 
against  him,  was  walking  through  the  street  with  a 
dim  idea  of  beginning  a  quarrel  with  the  man  who 
had  deserted  him,  the  destination  of  the  drunken 
woman  might  never  have  been  known.  Red  Talman's 

416 


JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

heart,  however,  callous  as  it  was,  foul  with  crimes 
too  many  and  black  to  catalogue,  had  one  single  spot 
into  which  any  light  or  feeling  could  penetrate.  This 
was  the  secret  corner,  sacred  to  the  thought  of  his  one 
child,  a  little  girl  who  alone  of  all  the  world  truly 
thought  him  a  good  man.  For  John  Marvel,  who  had 
helped  his  wife  and  child  when  he  lay  in  prison  under 
long  sentence,  and  had  been  kind  to  him,  he  enter 
tained  a  kindly  feeling,  but  for  the  young  lady  who  had 
taken  his  little  girl  and  taught  her  and  made  her  happy 
when  the  taunts  of  other  children  drove  her  from  the 
public  school,  he  had  more  than  a  liking.  She  and 
John  Marvel  alone  had  treated  him  in  late  years  as  a 
man  and  a  friend,  and  a  dim  hope  began  to  dawn  in  his 
mind  that  possibly  he  might  yet  be  able  to  save  his  girl 
from  the  shame  of  ever  truly  knowing  what  he  had  been. 
So,  when  the  man,  with  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  who 
had  helped  put  the  young  woman  in  the  carriage,  re- 
entered  the  house  and  the  drunken  woman  was  driven 
off  with  her  companion,  Red  Talman,  after  a  moment 
of  indecision,  turned  and  followed  the  cab.  He  was 
not  able  to  keep  up  with  it,  as,  though  the  broken-kneed 
horses  went  at  a  slow  gait,  they  soon  outdistanced  him, 
for  he  had  to  be  on  the  watch  for  officers;  but  he  knew 
the  vehicle,  and  from  the  direction  it  took  he  sus 
pected  its  destination.  He  turned  and  went  back  toward 
Gallagin's.  When  he  reached  the  narrow,  ill-lighted 
street,  on  which  the  side  entrance  opened,  he  slipped 
into  the  shadow  at  a  corner  and  waited.  An  hour  later 
the  hack  returned,  a  woman  got  out  of  it  and,  after  a 

417 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

short  altercation  with  the  driver,  ran  across  the  pave 
ment  and  entered  the  door.  As  the  hack  turned,  Red 
Talman  slipped  out  of  the  shadow  and  walked  up  to 
the  front  wheel. 

"Which  way  you  goin'f"  he  asked  the  driver,  who 
recognized  him. 

"Home,"  he  said. 

"Gimme  a  ride?" 

"  Git  up."  He  mounted  beside  him  and  drove  with 
him  to  a  dirty  saloon  in  a  small  street  at  some  little  dis 
tance,  where  he  treated  him  and  let  him  go.  A  half- 
hour  afterward  he  rang  the  bell  of  the  family  hotel  which 
I  had  visited  with  an  officer  the  day  before,  and  asked 
to  see  the  woman  of  the  house.  She  could  not  be  seen, 
the  woman  said  who  opened  the  door. 

"Well,  give  her  this  message,  then.  Tell  her  that 
Galley  says  to  take  good  care  of  the  girl  that  he  just 
sent  around  here  and  to  keep  her  dark." 

"Which  one?"  demanded  the  woman. 

"The  one  as  was  doped,  that  come  in  the  hack." 

"All  right." 

"That's  all,"  said  Talman,  and  walked  off. 

The  self-constituted  detective  pondered  as  he  passed 
down  through  the  dark  street.  How  should  he  use  his 
information  ?  Hate,  gratitude,  and  the  need  for  money 
all  contended  in  his  breast.  He  had  long  harbored  a 
feeling  of  revenge  against  McSheen  and  Raffity  and  his 
understrapper,  Gallagin.  They  had  deserted  him  in 
his  hour  of  need  and  he  had  come  near  being  hanged 
for  doing  their  work.  Only  his  fear  of  McSheen 's 

418 


JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

power  had  kept  him  quiet.  The  desire  for  revenge 
and  the  feeling  of  gratitude  worked  together.  But 
how  should  he  use  his  knowledge  ?  It  behooved  him  to 
be  prudent.  Coll  McSheen  and  Mick  Raffity  and  Mel 
Gallagin  were  powerful  forces  in  the  world  in  which  he 
moved.  They  could  land  him  behind  the  bars  in  an 
hour  if  they  worked  together.  At  last  he  solved  it! 

He  would  go  to  a  man  who  had  always  been  kind  to 
him  and  his.  Thus  it  was,  that  just  before  light  that 
morning  John  Marvel  was  awakened  by  a  knock  on  his 
door.  A  man  was  below  who  said  a  sick  person  needed 
his  services.  When  he  came  down  into  the  street  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  dawning  day,  there  was  a  man  waiting 
in  the  shadow.  He  did  not  recognize  him  at  first,  but 
he  recalled  him  as  the  man  told  the  object  of  his  visit 
at  such  an  hour,  and  John  was  soon  wide-awake. 
Still  he  could  scarcely  believe  the  story  he  was  told. 

"Why,  she  can't  be  there,"  he  protested.  "A  friend 
of  mine  was  there  to  look  for  her  day  before  yesterday 
with  the  police,  and  she  was  not  there." 

"She  is  there  now,  and  if  you  pull  the  place  you'll  get 
her  all  right,"  asserted  the  other. 

"Ill  go  there  myself." 

"No  use  goin'  by  yourself." 

"I'll  get  the  police " 

"  The  police ! "  The  other  laughed  derisively.  "  They 
don't  go  after  the  Big  Chief's  friends — not  when  he 
stands  by  'em." 

"The  ' Big  Chief '?" 

"Coll  McSheen." 

419 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Mr.  McSheen!" 

"He's  it!" 

"It?    What?    I  don't  understand." 

"Well,  don't  bring  me  into  this." 

"I  will  not." 

"He's  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  business.  He's  the 
lawyer  5t  gives  the  dope  and  takes  care  of  'em.  He  owns 
the  place — 't  least,  Mick  Raffity  and  Gallagin  and 
Smooth  Ally  own  the  places;  and  he  owns  them.  He 
knows  all  about  it  and  they  don't  turn  a  hand  without 
him.  Oh!  I  know  him — I  know  'on  all!" 

"You  think  this  is  the  girl  the  lady  was  looking 
for?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  only  know  she  went  there,  and 
Gallagin  showed  his  teeth,  and  then  I  called  him  down 
and  got  the  gal  out.  I  skeered  him." 

"Well,  we'll  see." 

"Well,  I  must  be  goin'.  I've  told  you.  Swear  you 
won't  bring  me  into  it.  Good-night." 

"I  will  not" 

The  man  gazed  down  the  street  one  way,  then  turned 
and  went  off  in  the  other  direction.  John  was  puzzled, 
but  a  gleam  of  light  came  to  him.  Wolffert!  Wolff ert 
was  the  man  to  consult.  What  this  man  said  was  just 
what  Wolffert  had  always  insisted  on :  that  "  the  White 
Slave  traffic  "  was  not  only  the  most  hideous  crime  now 
existing  on  earth,  but  that  it  was  protected  and  pro 
moted  by  men  in  power  in  the  city,  that  it  was,  indeed, 
international  in  its  range.  He  remembered  to  have 
beard  him  say  that  a  law  had  been  passed  to  deal  with 

420 


JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

it;  but  that  such  law  needed  the  force  of  an  awakened 
public  conscience  to  become  effective. 

Thus  it  was,  that  that  morning  Wolffert  was  aroused 
by  John  Marvel  coming  into  his  room.  In  an  instant 
he  was  wide-awake,  for  he,  too,  knew  of  the  disappear 
ance  of  Elsa,  and  of  our  fruitless  hunt  for  her. 

"But  you  are  sure  that  this  woman  is  Elsa?"  he 
asked  as  he  hurriedly  dressed. 

"No — only  that  it  is  some  one." 

"So  much  the  better — maybe." 

An  hour  later  Wolffert  and  John  Marvel  were  in  a 
lawyer's  office  in  one  of  the  great  new  buildings  of  the 
city,  talking  to  a  young  lawyer  who  had  recently  become 
a  public  prosecutor,  not  as  a  representative  of  the  city, 
but  of  a  larger  power,  that  of  the  nation.  He  and  Wolf 
fert  were  already  friends,  and  Wolffert  had  a  little 
while  before  interested  him  in  the  cause  to  which  he 
had  for  some  time  been  devoting  his  powers.  It 
promised  to  prove  a  good  case,  and  the  young  attorney 
was  keenly  interested.  The  bigger  the  game,  the  bet 
ter  he  loved  the  pursuit. 

"Who's  your  mysterious  informant,  Mr.  Marvel?" 
he  asked. 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you.  He  is  not  a  man  of  good 
character,  but  I  am  sure  he  is  telling  me  the  truth." 

"We  must  make  no  mistakes — we  don't  want  these 
people  to  escape,  and  the  net  will  catch  bigger  fish,  I 
hope,  than  you  suspect.  Why  not  tell  ? " 

"I  cannot." 

"Well,  then  I  shall  have  to  get  the  proof  in  some 
421 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

other  way.  I  will  act  at  once  and  let  you  hear 
from  me  soon.  In  fact,  I  have  a  man  on  the  case 
now.  I  learned  of  it  yesterday  from  my  cousin,  you 
know.  She  is  deeply  interested  in  trying  to  break  up 
this  vile  business,  and  a  part  of  what  you  say  I 
already  knew.  But  the  clews  lead  to  bigger  doors 
than  you  dream  of." 

John  and  Wolffert  came  away  together  and  decided 
on  a  plan  of  their  own.  Wolffert  was  to  come  to  see 
me  and  get  Langton  interested  in  the  case,  and  John 
was  to  go  to  see  Langton  to  send  him  to  me.  He  caught 
Langton  just  as  he  was  leaving  his  house  to  come  to 
my  office  and  walked  a  part  of  the  way  back  with  him, 
giving  him  the  facts  he  had  learned.  He  did  not  know 
that  Langton  was  already  on  the  case,  and  the  close- 
mouthed  detective  never  told  anything. 

When  they  parted,  Langton  came  to  my  office,  and 
together  we  went  to  the  district  attorney's,  who,  after 
a  brief  talk,  decided  to  act  at  once,  and  accordingly 
had  warrants  issued  and  placed  in  the  hands  of  his 
marshal. 

"I  have  been  trying  for  some  time  to  get  at  these 
people,"  he  said,  "and  I  have  the  very  man  for  the 
work — an  officer  whom  Coll  McSheen  turned  out  for 
making  trouble  for  the  woman  who  keeps  that  house." 

Aroused  by  my  interest  in  the  Loewens  and  by  what 
Langton  had  told  me  of  Miss  Leigh's  daring  the  night 
before,  I  secured  the  marshal's  consent  to  go  along  with 
them,  the  district  attorney  having,  indeed,  appointed 
me  a  deputy  marshal  for  the  occasion. 

422 


JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

The  marshal's  face  had  puzzled  me  at  first,  but  I 
soon  recognized  him  as  the  officer  I  had  met  once 
while  I  watched  a  little  child's  funeral.  "They  were 
too  many  for  me,"  he  said  in  brief  explanation.  "Mrs. 
Collis  had  me  turned  out.  She  had  a  pull  with  the 
Big  Chief.  And  when  I  went  for  his  friend,  Smooth 
Ally,  he  bounced  me.  But  I'm  all  right  now,  Mr. 
Semmes  knows  me,  and  Coll  McSheen  may  look  out.  I 
know  him." 

I  do  not  know  what  might  have  happened  had  we 
been  a  little  later  in  appearing  on  the  scene.  As, 
after  having  sent  a  couple  of  men  around  to  the  back 
of  the  block,  we  turned  into  the  street  we  saw  three  or 
four  men  enter  the  house  as  though  in  a  hurry.  We 
quickened  our  steps,  but  found  the  door  locked,  and  the 
voices  within  told  that  something  unusual  was  going  on. 
The  high  pitched  voice  of  a  woman  in  a  tirade  and  the 
low  growls  of  men  came  to  us  through  the  door,  fol 
lowed  by  the  noise  of  a  scuffle  and  the  smashing  of 
furniture;  a  thunderous  knock  on  the  door,  however, 
brought  a  sudden  silence. 

As  there  was  no  response  either  to  the  knock  or  ring, 
another  summons  even  more  imperative  was  made,  and 
this  time  a  window  was  opened  above,  a  woman  thrust 
her  head  out  and  in  a  rather  frightened  voice  asked 
what  was  wanted.  The  reply  given  was  a  command 
to  open  the  door  instantly,  and  as  the  delay  in  obeying 
appeared  somewhat  unreasonable,  a  different  method 
was  adopted.  The  door  was  forced  with  an  ease 
which  gave  me  a  high  idea  of  the  officer's  skill.  Within 

423 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

everything  appeared  quiet,  and  the  only  circumstance 
to  distinguish  the  house  from  a  rather  tawdry  small 
hotel  of  a  flashy  kind  was  a  man  and  that  man,  John 
Marvel,  with  a  somewhat  pale  face,  his  collar  and  vest 
torn  and  a  reddish  lump  on  his  forehead,  standing 
quietly  in  the  doorway  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  sitting- 
room  where  the  furniture  had  been  upset,  and  the 
woman  whom  I  had  formerly  seen  when  I  visited  the 
place  with  a  police  officer,  standing  at  the  far  end  of  the 
hall  in  a  condition  of  fright  bordering  on  hysterics.  I 
think  I  never  saw  men  so  surprised  as  those  in  our 
party  were  to  find  a  preacher  there.  It  was  only  a 
moment,  however,  before  the  explanation  came. 

"  She's  here,  I  believe,"  said  John,  quietly,  "  unless 
they  have  gotten  her  away  just  now." 

His  speech  appeared  to  have  unchained  the  fury  of 
the  woman,  for  she  swept  forward  suddenly  like  a 
tornado,  and  such  a  blast  of  rage  and  abuse  and  hate 
I  never  heard  pour  from  a  woman's  lips.  Amid  tears 
and  sobs  and  savage  cries  of  rage,  she  accused  John 
Marvel  of  every  crime  that  a  man  could  conceive  of, 
asserting  all  the  while  that  she  herself  was  an  innocent 
and  good  woman  and  her  house  an  absolutely  proper 
and  respectable  home.  She  imprecated  upon  him 
every  curse  and  revenge  which  she  could  think  of.  I 
confess  that,  outraged  as  I  was  by  the  virago's  attack, 
I  was  equally  surprised  by  John  Marvel's  placidness 
and  the  officer's  quiet  contempt.  The  only  thing  that 
John  Marvel  said  was: 

"There  were  some  men  here  just  now." 
424 


JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

"Liar!  Liar!  Liar!"  screamed  the  woman.  "You 
know  you  lie.  There  is  not  a  man  in  this  house  except 
that  man,  and  he  came  here  to  insult  me — he  who  comes 
here  all  the  time — you  know  you  do, !" 

"Where  are  the  men  ?"  demanded  the  marshal  quietly, 
but  he  got  no  answer  except  her  scream  of  denial. 

"They  were  after  me,"  said  John,  "but  when  you 
knocked  on  the  door  they  ran  off." 

Another  outpour  of  denial  and  abuse. 

"  Come  on,  men,"  said  the  marshal. 

John  Marvel  had  been  troubled  by  no  such  scruples 
as  had  appeared  to  me.  He  was  not  afraid  for  his 
reputation  as  I  had  been  for  mine.  And  on  his  way 
home  he  had  had  what  he  felt  to  be,  and  what,  far  be 
from  me  to  say  was  not,  a  divine  guidance.  A  sudden 
impulse  or  "call"  as  he  termed  it,  had  come  to  him  to 
go  straight  to  this  house,  and,  having  been  admitted,  he 
demanded  the  lost  girl.  The  woman  in  charge  denied 
vehemently  that  such  a  girl  had  ever  been  there  or  that 
she  knew  anything  of  her,  playing  her  part  of  outraged 
modesty  with  a  great  show  of  sincerity.  But  when  Mar 
vel  persisted  and  showed  some  knowledge  of  the  facts, 
she  took  another  tack  and  began  to  threaten  him.  He 
was  a  preacher,  she  said,  and  she  would  ruin  him.  She 
would  call  in  the  police,  and  she  would  like  to  see  how 
it  would  look  when  an  account  came  out  in  the  news 
papers  next  morning  of  his  having  visited  what  he 
thought  a  house  of  ill  repute.  She  had  friends  among 
the  police,  and  bigger  friends  even  than  the  police,  and 
they  would  see  her  through. 

425 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

John  quietly  seated  himself.  A  serene  and  dauntless 
resolution  shone  from  his  eyes.  "Well,  you  had  better 
be  very  quick  about  it,"  he  said,  "for  I  have  already 
summoned  officers  and  they  will  be  here  directly." 

Then  the  woman  weakened  and  began '  to  cringe. 
She  told  him  the  same  story  that  she  had  told  me  and 
the  policeman  when  we  had  called  before.  A  young 
woman  had  come  there  with  a  gentleman  whom  she 
called  her  husband,  but  she  would  not  let  her  stay 
because  she  suspected  her,  etc.,  etc. 

"Why  did  you  suspect  her?" 

"Because,  and  because,  and  because,"  she  explained. 
"For  other  reasons,  because  the  man  was  a  foreigner." 

John  Marvel,  for  all  his  apparent  heaviness,  was 
clear-headed  and  reasonable.  He  was  not  to  be  de 
ceived,  so  he  quietly  sat  and  waited.  Then  the  woman 
had  gone,  as  she  said,  to  call  the  police,  but,  as  was 
shown  later,  she  had  called  not  the  police,  but  Gallagin 
and  Mick  Raffity  and  the  man  who  stood  behind  and 
protected  both  of  these  creatures  and  herself,  and  the 
men  who  had  come  in  response  had  been  not  officers 
of  the  police,  but  three  scoundrels  who,  under  a  pre 
tence  of  respectability,  were  among  the  most  dangerous 
instruments  used  by  Coll  McSheen  and  his  heelers. 
Fortunately  for  John  Marvel  we  had  arrived  in  the  nick 
of  time.  All  this  appeared  later. 

Unheeding  her  continued  asseverations  and  vitupera 
tion,  the  marshal  proceeded  to  examine  the  house. 
The  entire  lower  floor  was  searched  without  finding 
the  woman.  In  the  kitchen  below,  which  was  some- 

426 


JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

what  elaborate  in  its  appointments,  a  number  of  sus 
piciously  attired  and  more  than  suspicious  looking 
young  women  were  engaged,  apparently,  in  preparing 
to  cook,  for  as  yet  the  fire  was  hardly  made,  and  in 
scrubbing  industriously.  Up-stairs  a  number  more 
were  found.  For  the  moment  nothing  was  said  to  them, 
but  the  search  proceeded.  They  were  all  manifestly 
in  a  state  of  subdued  excitement  which  was  painful  to 
see,  as  with  disheveled  hair,  painted  faces  and  heaving 
bosoms,  they  pretended  to  be  engaged  in  tasks  which 
manifestly  they  had  rarely  ever  attempted  before.  Still 
there  was  no  sign  of  Elsa,  and  as  the  proprietor  de 
clared  that  we  had  seen  every  room  except  that  in 
which  her  sick  daughter  was  asleep,  it  looked  as  though 
Elsa  might  not  have  been  there  after  all. 

"  Let  us  see  your  daughter,"  said  the  officer. 

This  was  impossible.  The  doctor  had  declared  that 
she  must  be  kept  absolutely  quiet,  and  in  fact  the 
woman  made  such  a  show  of  sincerity  and  motherly 
anxiety,  that  I  think  I  should  have  been  satisfied.  The 
marshal,  however,  knew  his  business  better — he  in 
sisted  on  opening  the  door  indicated,  and  inside,  stretched 
on  a  dirty  pallet,  was  a  poor  creature,  evidently  ill 
enough,  if  not  actually  at  the  point  of  death.  It  was 
not,  however,  the  woman's  daughter;  but  to  my  un 
speakable  horror,  I  recognized  instantly  the  poor  girl 
I  had  once  rescued  from  a  less  cruel  death  and  had 
turned  over  to  the  Salvation  Army.  There  was  no  mis 
taking  her.  Her  scarred  face  was  stamped  indelibly  on 
my  memory.  She  presently  recognized  me  too;  but  all 

427 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

she  said  was,  "They  got  me  back.  I  knew  they  would." 
We  turned  her  over  to  John  Marvel,  while  awaiting  the 
ambulance,  and  continued  our  search  which  threatened 
to  prove  fruitless  so  far  as  Elsa  Loewen  was  concerned. 
But  at  this  moment  a  curious  thing  occurred.  Dixey, 
who  had  been  following  me  all  the  morning  and  had, 
without  my  taking  notice  of  him,  come  not  only  to  the 
house  with  us,  but  had  come  in  as  well,  began  to  nose 
around  and  presently  stopped  at  a  door,  where  he  pro 
ceeded  to  whimper  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do  when  he 
wished  to  be  let  in  at  a  closed  door.  I  called  him  off, 
but  though  he  came,  he  went  back  again  and  again, 
until  he  attracted  the  officer's  attention.  The  door  was 
a  low  one,  and  appeared  to  be  the  entrance  only  to  a 
cupboard. 

"Have  we  been  in  that  room?" 

The  woman  declared  that  we  had,  but  as  we  all 
knew  it  had  not  been  entered,  she  changed  and  said  it 
was  not  the  door  of  a  room  at  all,  but  of  a  closet. 

"Open  it!"  said  the  officer. 

"The  key  is  lost,"  said  the  woman.  "We  do  not 
use  it!" 

"Then  I  will  open  it,"  said  the  marshal,  and  the 
next  moment  the  door  was  forced  open.  The  woman 
gave  a  scream  and  made  a  dash  at  the  nearest  man, 
beside  herself  with  rage,  fighting  and  tearing  like  a 
wild  animal.  And  well  she  might,  for  inside,  crum 
pled  up  on  the  floor,  under  a  pile  of  clothing,  lay  the 
girl  we  were  searching  for,  in  a  comatose  state.  She 
was  lifted  carefully  and  brought  out  into  the  light,  and 

428 


JOHN  MARVEL'S  RAID 

I  scarcely  knew  her,  so  battered  and  bruised  and  dead- 
alive  the  poor  thing  appeared.  Dixey,  however,  knew, 
and  he  testified  his  affection  and  gratitude  by  stealing 
in  between  us  as  we  stood  around  her  and  licking  the 
poor  thing's  hand.  It  was  a  terrible  story  that  was 
revealed  when  the  facts  came  out,  and  its  details  were 
too  horrifying  and  revolting  to  be  put  in  print,  but  that 
night  Madam  Snow's  hotel  was  closed.  The  lights 
which  had  lured  so  many  a  frail  bark  to  shipwreck 
were  extinguished,  and  Madam  Snow  and  her  wretched 
retinue  of  slaves,  who  had  been  bound  to  a  servitude 
more  awful  than  anything  which  history  could  tell  or 
romance  could  portray,  were  held  in  the  custody  of  the 
marshal  of  the  United  States. 

The  newspapers  next  day,  with  one  exception,  con 
tained  an  account  of  the  "  pulling  "  of  Smooth  Ally's 
place.  That  exception  was  The  Trumpet.  But  a  day 
or  two  later  John  Marvel  received  a  cheque  for  $200 
from  Coll  McSheen  "  for  his  poor/'  I  had  never  seen 
Wolffert  show  more  feeling  than  when  John,  in  the 
innocency  of  his  heart,  told  him  of  the  gift.  "  It  is  the 
wedge  of  Achan!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  hush  money. 
It  is  blood  money.  It  is  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver 
given  for  blood.  Even  Judas  returned  it."  He  made 
his  proof  clear,  and  the  money  was  returned. 


429 


XXXII 

"DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

It  was  the  duty  of  the  street-car  company  under 
their  charter  to  run  through  cars  every  day  or  forfeit 
their  charter — a  wise  provision,  doubtless;  but  one 
which  did  not  contemplate  that  Coll  McSheen  who  was 
trying  to  destroy  the  company  should  have  control  of 
the  police  on  whose  protection  the  ability  to  carry  out 
the  charter  depended. 

Under  the  compulsion  of  this  requirement  to  run 
through  cars,  the  management  of  the  street-car  line, 
after  much  trouble,  secured  a  few  men  who,  for  a  -large 
price,  agreed  to  operate  the  cars.  But  it  was  several 
hours  after  the  regular  time  before  the  first  car  ran  out 
of  the  shed.  It  made  its  way  for  some  distance  without 
encountering  any  difficulty  or  even  attracting  any  at 
tention  beyond  a  few  comments  by  men  and  women 
walking  along  the  streets  or  standing  in  their  doors. 
A  little  further  along  there  were  a  few  jeers,  but  pres 
ently  it  turned  a  corner  and  reached  a  point  in  a  street 
where  a  number  of  boys  were  playing,  as  usual,  and  a 
number  of  men  out  of  work  were  standing  about  smoking 
their  pipes  and  discussing  with  some  acrimony  the  action 
of  the  meeting  which  had  called  the  strike,  and  with 
some  foreboding  the  future.  As  the  car  stopped  for  a 
moment  to  take  on  a  woman  who  had  been  waiting,  a 

430 


"  DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

number  of  the  boys  playing  in  the  street  began  to  jeer 
and  hoot  the  motorman,  who  was  evidently  somewhat 
unaccustomed  to  handling  his  car,  and  when  he  at 
tempted  to  loosen  his  brake,  and  showed  therein  his 
unskilfulness,  jeers  turned  into  taunts,  and  the  next 
moment  a  few  handfuls  of  rubbish  picked  up  in  a 
gutter  were  flung  at  him.  In  a  twinkling,  as  if  by 
magic  the  street  filled,  and  vegetables  taken  from  in 
front  of  a  neighboring  shop,  mingled  with  a  few  stones, 
began  to  rattle  against  the  car,  smashing  the  windows 
with  much  noise.  The  rattling  glass  quickly  attracted 
attention.  It  was  like  a  bugle  call,  and  in  a  minute  more 
the  road  was  blocked  and  a  dozen  youths  sprang  upon 
the  car  and  a  fierce  fight  ensued  between  them  and  the 
motorman  and  conductor,  both  of  whom  were  soundly 
beaten  and  might  have  been  killed  but  for  their  promise 
to  give  up  their  job  and  the  somewhat  tardy  arrival  of 
the  police  who  had  been  promised,  but  had  appeared 
on  the  scene  only  after  the  riot  had  taken  place.  This 
collision,  which  was  begun  by  a  lot  of  irresponsible 
boys,  was  described  under  glaring  headlines  in  all  of 
the  afternoon  papers  as  a  riot  of  vast  dimension.  The 
effect  of  the  riot,  great  or  small,  was  instantaneous  and 
far-reaching  throughout  the  entire  section.  That  even 
ing  the  entire  population  of  that  section  had  changed 
from  an  attitude  of  reasonable  neutrality  to  one  of 
unequivocal  hostility.  It  was  a  psychological  moment. 
The  spark  had  been  dropped  in  the  powder.  Next 
day  it  was  as  if  war  had  been  declared.  There  were 
no  neutrals.  All  had  taken  sides. 

431 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Before  many  days  were  out  the  strike  had  progressed 
so  far  that,  instead  of  its  being  a  small  body  of  men  en 
gaged  in  cessation  of  work,  with  pacific  methods  of 
attempting  to  dissuade  others  who  wished  to  continue 
their  work  from  doing  so,  or,  by  some  more  positive 
form  of  argument  known  as  picketing,  of  preventing 
new-comers  from  taking  the  places  of  those  who  had 
struck,  it  had  developed  into  an  active  force  whose 
frank  object  was  to  render  it  impossible  for  any  man 
to  take  or  hold  a  position  as  an  employee  of  the  railway 
company.  It  was  not  so  much  that  meetings  were  fre 
quently  held  and  the  measures  advocated  constantly 
grew  more  and  more  violent,  nor  that  occasional  out 
breaks  occurred,  as  that  the  whole  temper  of  the  people 
was  becoming  inflamed,  and  the  conditions  of  life 
affected  thereby  were  becoming  almost  intolerable. 
The  call  of  the  company  on  the  mayor,  as  the  repre 
sentative  of  the  public,  to  grant  them  protection,  was 
promptly,  if  somewhat  evasively,  replied  to.  No  man 
knew  better  than  Coll  McSheen  how  to  express  himself 
so  that  he  might  be  understood  differently  by  different 
men.  It  had  been  one  of  his  strong  cards  in  climbing 
to  the  altitude  which  he  had  reached.  But  the  idea 
that  the  police  would  render  efficient  aid  to  the  com 
pany  was  openly  and  generally  scoffed  at  in  the  quar 
ters  where  the  strike  prevailed.  It  was  boldly  declared 
that  the  police  were  in  sympathy  with  the  strikers. 
This  report  appeared  to  have  some  foundation,  when 
one  cold  night,  with  the  thermometer  at  zero,  a  fire 
broke  out  in  the  mills  owned  by  Mr.  Leigh's  company, 

432 


"DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

and  they  were  gutted  from  foundation  to  roof.  It  was 
charged  on  the  strikers;  but  an  investigation  showed 
that  this  charge,  like  many  others,  was  unfounded;  at 
least,  as  it  alleged  a  direct  and  intentional  act.  The 
evidence  proved  conclusively  to  my  mind  that  the  fire, 
while  of  incendiary  origin,  was  started  by  a  gang  of 
reckless  and  dissolute  youths  who  had  no  relation  what 
ever  to  the  strikers,  but  whose  purpose  was  to  exhibit 
their  enmity  against  a  company  which  was  held  in  such 
disfavor  generally.  This  was  the  contention  of  Wolf- 
fert  in  his  papers  on  the  incident,  and  the  view  which 
Mr.  Leigh  afterward  adopted. 

It  was  only  an  expression  of  the  general  feeling  that 
had  grown  up  in  the  city  under  the  influence  of  the  strike 
— one  of  the  baleful  offspring  of  the  condition  which 
McSheen  and  Wringman  and  their  like  had  been  able 
to  produce  from  the  conflict  which  they  had  projected 
and  fostered.  The  wretched  youths  who  were  arrested, 
told  under  the  sweating  process  a  series  of  wholly  con 
flicting  and  incredible  lies,  and  in  time  two  of  them 
were  convicted  on  their  own  confessions  and  sent  to  the 
State  prison,  and  the  strikers  who  had  not  yet  resorted 
to  extreme  measures  of  violence  got  the  credit  of  the 
crime. 

The  continued  spread  of  the  strike  and  of  sympathy 
with  it  had  already  reached  large  proportions.  The 
losses  to  business  and  to  business  men  and  the  incon 
venience  to  even  the  well-to-do  classes  were  immense 
and  when  calculated  in  figures  were  quite  staggering. 
The  winter  had  set  in  with  sudden  severity.  The 

433 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

suffering  among  the  poor  was  incalculable.  There 
was  not  a  house  or  shop  in  the  poorer  districts  where 
the  pinch  of  poverty  was  not  beginning  to  be  felt.  The 
wolf,  which  ever  stands  beside  the  door  of  the  poor, 
had  long  since  entered  and  cleaned  out  many  of  the 
small  dwellings  which  the  summer  before  had  been  the 
abode  of  hope  and  of  reasonable  content.  Only  the 
human  wolves  who  prey  on  misfortune  battened  and 
fattened;  the  stock-brokers  who  organized  raids  on 
"the  market,"  the  usurers  who  robbed  the  poor  more 
directly,  but  not  more  effectively,  the  thieves  of  one 
kind  or  another  alone  prospered.  The  cry  of  hunger 
increased  while  bitterness  without  and  within  had  long 
since  begun  to  be  universal,  so  long  as  to  be  scarcely 
heeded  throughout  the  poor  quarters.  The  efforts  of 
philanthropy,  individual  and  organized,  were  exercised 
to  the  utmost,  but  the  trouble  was  too  vast  to  be  more 
than  touched  on  the  outer  fringe.  The  evil  which  Mr. 
Leigh  had  predicted  had  come  to  pass  and  his  prophecy 
had  been  far  more  than  verified.  Many  of  the  young 
women,  turned  from  their  factories,  had  disappeared 
from  the  places  which  knew  them  before  and  found 
their  way  to  haunts  like  Mel  Gallagin's  "Gallery"  and 
others  less  splendid,  but  not  more  wicked.  Only  in  the 
sphere  in  which  persons  of  extraordinary  accumulation 
moved,  like  the  Canters  and  the  Argands,  was  there 
apparently  no  diminution  in  their  expenditure  and  dis 
play.  Young  Canter  and  his  comrades  still  flaunted 
their  vast  wealth  in  undisguised  and  irresponsible  dis 
play — still  gambled  on  the  stock  boards  in  commodities 

434 


"DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

that  touched  the  lives  of  pining  thousands — still  multi 
plied  their  horses  and  automobiles,  and  drove  them 
recklessly  through  crowded  streets,  heedless  of  the 
pinched  and  scowling  faces  of  unemployed  multitudes. 
But  older  and  saner  heads  were  beginning  to  shake 
when  the  future  was  mentioned.  The  reefing  of  sails 
for  a  storm  whose  forerunners  were  on  the  horizon  was 
already  taking  place,  and  every  reef  meant  that  some 
part  of  the  crew  which  had  sailed  the  ship  so  far  was 
dropped  overboard. 

The  devil  is  credited  with  the  power  to  raise  a  tem 
pest.  Certainly  tempests  are  raised,  but  sometimes  even 
the  devil  cannot  quiet  them.  Such  was  the  case  with 
the  strike.  McSheen,  Wringman  and  Co.  had  been 
completely  successful  in  getting  the  strike  of  the  Leigh 
employees  under  way:  when  it  started,  they  privately 
took  much  pride  in  their  work.  Wringman  received 
his  wage  and  gratified  his  feeling  of  revenge  for  Mr. 
Leigh's  cool  contempt  of  him  on  the  occasion  when  he 
called  to  demand  terms  of  him.  McSheen  had  a  score 
of  longer  standing  to  settle.  It  dated  back  to  the  time 
when  Mr.  Leigh,  looking  with  clear  and  scornful  eyes  at 
his  work,  gave  him  to  feel  that  at  least  one  man  knew 
him  to  the  bottom  of  his  scoundrelly  soul.  For  a  while 
it  appeared  as  though  Mr.  Leigh  would  be  irretrievably 
ruined  and  McSheen  and  his  friends  and  secret  backers 
like  Canter  would  secure  easy  possession  of  the  proper 
ties  his  power  of  organization  had  built  up;  but  sud 
denly  an  unlooked-for  ally  with  abundant  resources  had 
come  to  Mr.  Leigh's  assistance  in  the  person  of  an  old 

435 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

friend,  and  the  ripened  fruit  of  their  labors  had  been 
plucked  from  their  hands  outstretched  to  grasp  it.  And 
now  having  raised  the  tempest,  these  gamblers  could  not 
calm  it.  In  other  words,  having  started  a  strike  among 
Mr.  Leigh's  operatives  for  a  specific  purpose,  it  had 
spread  like  a  conflagration  and  now  threatened  to  de 
stroy  everything.  The  whole  laboring  population  were 
getting  into  a  state  of  ferment.  Demands  were  made 
by  their  leaders  such  as  had  never  been  dreamed  of 
before.  The  leaders  were  working  them  for  their  own 
purposes,  and  were  after  a  temporary  raise  of  wages. 
But  there  was  a  graver  danger.  The  people  were  be 
coming  trained.  A  new  leader  was  coming  forward, 
and  his  writings  were  having  a  profound  influence.  He 
could  not  be  bullied,  and  he  could  not  be  bought,  this 
Jew,  Wolffert.  He  was  opening  the  eyes  of  the  People. 
Unless  the  thing  were  stopped,  there  would  be  a  catas 
trophe  which  would  ruin  them  all.  This  was  the  judg 
ment  that  McSheen  and  Canter  and  Co.  arrived  at. 
And  this  was  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Canter,  Sr., 
announced  to  his  son  and  heir,  Mr.  Canter,  Jr.,  at  the 
close  of  an  interview  in  which  he  had  discussed  his 
affairs  with  more  openness  than  he  usually  employed 
with  that  audacious  young  operator.  "The  fact  is," 
he  said,  "that  we  have  failed  in  the  object  of  our  move. 
We  have  not  got  hold  of  Leigh's  lines — and  his  men  are 
returning  to  work  while  ours  are  just  beginning  to 
fight — and  instead  of  getting  his  properties,  we  stand  a 
blessed  good  show  of  losing  our  own.  McSheen 
couldn't  deliver  the  goods  and  there  is  the  devil  to  pay. 

43G 


"DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

Why  don't  you  stop  your nonsense  and  settle  down 

and  marry  that  girl?  She's  the  prettiest  girl  in  town 
and —  Well,  you  might  go  a  good  deal  further  and 
fare  worse.  There  is  a  good  property  there  if  we  don't 
destroy  it  fighting  for  it.  If  you  are  ever  going  to  do 
it,  now  is  the  time,  and  we  are  bound  to  have  it,  if  pos 
sible,  to  save  our  own." 

Mr.  Canter,  Jr.,  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "How  do 
you  know  she  would  have  me  ?"  he  asked  with  a  sort  of 
grin  which  was  not  altogether  mirthful.  He  did  not 
feel  it  necessary  to  impart  to  his  parent  the  fact  that  he 
was  beginning  to  have  strong  doubts  himself  on  the 
subject.  But  Canter,  Jr.,  was  no  fool. 

"Well,  of  course,  she  won't,  if  you  go  spreeing 
around  with  a  lot  of  blanked  hussies.  No  decent 
woman  would.  But  why  the  deuce  don't  you  drop 
that  business?  You  are  getting  old  enough  now 
to  know  better.  And  you  can't  keep  hitting  it  up  as 
you  have  been  doing.  There's  a  new  system  coming 
in  in  this  town,  and  you'll  get  in  trouble  if  you  don't 
look  out.  You  came  precious  near  it  the  other 
night.  Those  young  men  mean  business.  Get  rid  of 
that  woman." 

Young  Canter  for  once  came  near  disclosing  to  his 
father  the  whole  situation  and  telling  him  the  truth. 
He  however  contented  himself  with  his  usual  half-light 
assurance  that  he  was  all  right — and  that  he  was  going 
to  settle  down.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  tell  him 
that  he  found  himself  bound  with  a  chain  which  he 
could  not  break,  and  that  "that  woman"  would  not  be 

437 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

gotten  rid  of.  She,  in  fact,  threatened  not  only  to  make 
a  terrible  scandal  if  he  attempted  to  leave  her,  but 
actually  menaced  his  life. 

However,  he  determined  to  act  on  his  father's  advice. 
He  would  break  off  from  her  and  if  he  could  carry 
through  his  plans  he  would  marry  and  go  abroad  and 
remain  until  the  storm  had  blown  over  and  "that 
woman"  had  consoled  herself  with  some  other  soft 
young  millionaire. 

Among  all  the  people  affected  by  the  strike  none 
suffered  more,  I  believe,  than  John  Marvel  and 
Wolffert.  I  never  saw  any  one  more  distressed  by  the 
suffering  about  them  than  these  two  men.  Others 
suffered  physically,  they  mentally,  and  in  the  re 
flexive  way  which  comes  from  overwrought  sympathies. 
Where  gloom  and  dull  hate  scowled  from  the  brows  of 
the  working  class,  sadness  and  sorrow  shadowed  John's 
brow,  though  at  need  he  always  had  a  smile  and  a 
cheery  word  for  every  one.  He  was  soon  reduced  to  his 
last  suit  of  clothes,  and  as  the  cold  increased,  he  went 
about  overcoatless  and  gloveless,  walking  like  fury  and 
beating  his  arms  to  keep  himself  from  freezing,  his  worn 
overcoat  and  gloves  having  long  since  gone  with  every 
thing  else  he  had  to  help  some  one  needier  than  himself. 
"Take  a  long,  deep  breath,"  he  used  to  say,  "and  it 
will  warm  you  up  like  a  fire.  What  does  a  young  man 
need  with  an  overcoat?"  What,  indeed,  with  the 
thermometer  at  zero,  and  rapidly  slipping  still  lower! 
"Those  I  grieve  for  are  the  old  and  the  sick  and  the 
young  children." 

438 


"DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

However  this  was,  he  was  busier  than  ever — going  in 
and  out  among  his  poor;  writing  letters,  making  calls, 
appealing  to  those  able  to  give,  and  distributing  what 
he  could  collect,  which,  indeed,  was  no  little,  for  the 
people  at  large  were  sympathetic  with  suffering  and 
generous  to  poverty.  And  his  ablest  assistant  in  the 
work  was  Wolffert,  if,  indeed,  he  was  not  the  leader.  I 
never  knew  before  what  one  man's  intellect  and  zeal 
consecrated  to  a  work  could  accomplish.  The  great 
morass  of  poverty,  wide  and  profound  at  all  times, 
extending  through  the  city,  sapping  the  foundations  and 
emitting  its  exhalations,  became  now  bottomless  and 
boundless.  Into  this  morass  Wolffert  flung  himself 
with  the  earnestness  of  a  zealot.  He  worked  day  and 
night,  organizing  relief  associations;  looking  after  in 
dividual  cases;  writing  letters  to  the  press  and  picturing 
conditions  with  a  vividness  which  began  to  make  an 
impression  on  all  sides.  He  counselled  patience  and 
moderation  on  the  part  of  the  poor,  but  made  no  secret 
of  his  sympathy  with  them,  and  where  he  dealt  with  the 
injustice  shown  them  it  was  with  a  pen  of  flame.  The 
conservative  papers  charged  that  his  letters  added  fuel 
to  the  flames  already  blazing.  It  was  possibly  true. 
Certainly,  the  flames  were  spreading. 

As  the  strike  proceeded  and  violence  increased,  those 
evidences  of  sympathy  which  came  in  the  form  of  con 
tributions  grew  less,  and  at  last  they  began  to  fail  per 
ceptibly.  In  the  commotion  the  foulest  dregs  of  the 
seething  community  were  thrown  up,  the  vilest  scum 
rose  to  the  top.  As  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Leigh's  fire,  what- 

439 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ever  outrages  were  committed  were  charged  to  the 
strikers.  The  press,  which  had  begun  with  expressions 
of  sympathy  with  the  strikers,  had,  under  the  impend 
ing  shadow,  changed  its  tone  and  was  now  calling  on 
the  authorities  to  put  down  lawlessness  with  a  strong 
hand;  demanding  that  the  police  should  be  ordered  to 
protect  the  property  and  lives  of  citizens,  and  calling  on 
the  mayor  to  bestir  himself  and  call  on  the  governor 
for  aid. 

In  this  state  of  the  case  John  Marvel,  wishing  to  see 
what  could  be  done  to  ameliorate  the  conditions  about 
him,  called  a  meeting  of  his  congregation  at  his  church 
one  evening  just  before  Christmas,  and  when  the  time 
came  the  little  chapel  was  crowded  to  suffocation.  It 
was  a  sombre  and  depressing-looking  crowd  that 
thronged  the  aisles  of  the  little  building.  Poverty  and 
want  were  in  every  face.  A  hopeless,  sullen  misery  sat 
on  every  brow.  The  people  thought  that  somehow 
some  good  would  come  of  it,  and  many  who  had  never 
been  inside  the  walls  before  were  on  hand.  I  went  in 
consequence  of  a  talk  I  had  with  Marvel,  who  had 
casually  mentioned  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh's  name  in  con 
nection  with  the  first  suggestion  of  the  call.  And  I  was 
rewarded,  for  seated  back  in  the  crowd,  with  her  face  a 
little  more  pallid  than  usual  and  her  eyes  filled  with  the 
light  of  expectancy  and  kindness,  sat  Eleanor  Leigh. 
She  was  dressed  with  great  simplicity;  but  her  appear 
ance  was  not  the  less  attractive,  at  least  to  me.  She 
smiled  from  time  to  time  to  some  acquaintance  in  the 
sad-looking  throng,  but  I  had  a  pang  of  jealousy  to  see 

440 


"DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

how  her  gaze  followed  John  Marvel,  and  one  other 
member  of  the  assembly,  whose  presence  rather  sur 
prised  me,  Wolffert. 

After  a  brief  service  John  Marvel,  in  a  few  touching 
and  singularly  apt  words,  explained  the  reason  for 
having  called  them  together,  irrespective  of  their  church 
relation,  and  urged  that,  as  the  blessed  season  which  was 
accepted  by  Christendom  as  the  time  of  peace  on  earth 
and  good-will  to  all  men  was  drawing  near,  they  should 
all  try  to  lay  aside  personal  feeling  and  hates  and 
grievances,  and  try  what  effect  kindness  and  good-will 
would  accomplish.  He  asked  that  all  would  try  to  help 
each  other  as  formerly,  and  trust  to  the  Divine  and 
Merciful  Master  to  right  their  wrongs  and  inspire  com 
passion  for  their  sufferings.  He  referred  to  the  terrible 
development  that  had  just  been  made  among  them — the 
discovery  of  Elsa  and  the  other  poor  girl  who  had  been 
found  at  the  Snow  house — to  the  sudden  arousing  of  the 
law  after  years  of  praying  and  working,  and  with  a 
word  of  compassion  for  the  poor  creatures  who  had 
been  misled  and  enslaved,  he  urged  patience  and 
prayer  as  the  means  to  secure  God's  all-powerful  help 
in  their  distress.  His  words  and  manner  were  simple 
and  touching,  and  I  do  not  attempt  to  give  any  idea  of 
them  or  of  their  effect.  But  I  somehow  felt  as  though 
I  were  hearing  the  very  teaching  of  Christ.  He  would 
call  on  one  who  was  their  friend  as  they  knew,  the 
friend  of  all  who  needed  a  friend,  to  say  a  few  words  to 
them.  He  turned  to  Wolffert.  Wolffert  walked  for 
ward  a  few  steps  and  turned,  made  a  brief  but  power- 

441 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ful  statement  of  the  situation,  and  counselled  patience 
and  forbearance.  He  knew  their  sufferings,  he  said 
— he  knew  their  fortitude.  He  knew  their  wrongs, 
but  patience  and  fortitude  would  in  time  bring  a  reali 
zation  of  it  all  in  the  minds  of  the  public.  What  was 
needed  was  to  make  known  to  the  world  the  truth, 
not  as  changed  and  distorted  by  ignorance  or  evil  de 
sign,  but  as  it  existed  in  fact.  They  had  a  more  power 
ful  weapon  than  bullets  or  bayonets,  the  power  of 
truth  and  justice.  His  own  people  had  been  preserved 
by  Jehovah  through  the  ages  by  the  patience  and  for 
titude  He  had  given  them,  and  God's  arm  was  not  short 
ened  that  He  could  not  save  nor  His  ear  dulled  that  He 
could  not  hear.  He  used  the  same  illustration  that  John 
Marvel  had  used:  the  unexpected  arousing  of  the  law 
to  defend  and  save  poor  ignorant  girls,  who  were  being 
dragged  down  to  the  bottomless  pit  by  organized  infamy 
under  the  protection  of  men  who  had  made  themselves 
more  powerful  than  the  law.  For  these  he  had  a  few 
scathing  words.  He  told  of  John  Marvel's  going  to 
find  Elsa,  and  referred  to  the  aid  he  had  received  from 
others,  those  connected  with  the  railway  line  on  which 
the  strike  existed;  and  he  counselled  them  to  protect 
themselves,  obey  the  law,  keep  the  peace,  and  await 
with  patience  the  justice  of  God.  Efforts  were  being 
made  to  furnish  them  with  fuel. 

It  may  have  been  Wolffert's  deep,  flashing  eyes,  his 
earnest  manner  and  vibrant  voice,  which  affected  them, 
for,  though  he  held  himself  under  strong  restraint,  he 
was  deeply  affected  himself;  but  when  John  Marvel, 

442 


"DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

after  a  brief  prayer,  dismissed  them  with  the  benedic 
tion,  the  people,  men  and  women,  passed  out  in  almost 
silence  and  dispersed  to  their  homes,  and  their  mur 
mured  talk  was  all  in  a  new  key  of  resignation  and  even 
of  distant  hope.  I  felt  as  though  I  had  shaken  off  the 
trammels  of  selfishness  that  had  hitherto  bound  me, 
and  was  getting  a  glimpse  of  what  the  world  might  be 
come  in  the  future.  This  simple  follower  of  Christ 
among  his  poor,  threadbare  like  them,  like  them  fireless 
and  hungry  and  poor,  illustrated  his  master's  teaching 
in  a  way  which  I  had  never  seen  before,  and  it  gave  me 
a  new  insight  into  his  power.  I  should  have  liked  to 
go  up  to  Eleanor  Leigh  and  make  peace  with  her;  but 
while  I  deliberated  Wolffert  joined  her  and  I  walked 
home  alone  and  thoughtful. 

The  press  next  morning  had  a  fairly  full  notice  of  the 
meeting — the  first  that  had  ever  been  given  to  the  work 
done  through  the  chapel  and  its  minister.  The  chief 
notices  in  it  were  the  connection  of  the  minister  with 
the  case  of  Elsa  Loewen  and  the  attack  on  the  system 
made  by  a  Jew.  One  paper  had  the  heading : 

"JEW  AND  CHRISTIAN." 
Another's  headline  ran: 
"PREACHER    MARVEL   VISITS   A    BAGNIO." 

And  it  was  only  below  that  it  was  made  plain  that  John 
Marvel  had  gone  thither  to  rescue  a  lost  girl.  This, 
Kalender  once  informed  me,  was  the  true  art  of  making 

443 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

headlines.  "Half  the  world  don't  read  anything  but 
the  headlines,"  he  asserted,  "and  the  other  half  don't 
remember  anything  else."  The  story  made  a  sensation 
which  Kalender  himself  might  have  coveted. 

That  day  about  noon  Mrs.  Argand  received  a  call 
from  her  counsel,  the  Hon.  Collis  McSheen,  who  un 
folded  to  her  such  a  diabolical  scheme  to  injure  her 
property  interests  in  common  with  those  of  every  other 
important  property  holder  in  the  city,  by  a  wicked 
Jewish  wretch  and  his  fellow  in  mischief,  who  professed 
to  be  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel  in  a  chapel  which  she  had 
largely  helped  to  build  for  the  poor,  that  between  fright 
and  rage  the  good  lady  was  scarcely  able  to  wait  long 
enough  to  summon  the  Rev.  Dr.  Capon  to  her  house. 
The  Hon.  Collis  did  not  mention  the  fact  that  one  of  his 
own  houses  was  at  that  moment  closed  through  the  act 
of  this  scheming  parson,  nor  that  he  was  beginning  to 
shake  over  the  idea  that  the  investigation  beginning 
to  be  set  on  foot  in  consequence  of  the  meddlesomeness 
of  this  same  person  might  reach  uncomfortably  near  his 
own  door,  and  that  he  was  sensible  that  a  force  was 
being  aroused  which  he  could  not  control. 

Most  women  trust  implicitly  in  their  lawyers,  and, 
curiously  enough,  many  trust  them  in  their  affairs  even 
when  they  know  they  are  dishonest.  Coll  McSheen 
knew  perfectly  how  to  deal  with  Mrs.  Argand.  He 
descanted  eloquently  on  his  duty  to  the  great  estate  she 
represented  and  his  pride  in  her  admirable  manage 
ment  of  it.  One  of  the  great  fountains  of  charity  was 
in  danger. 

444 


"  DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Bartholomew  Capon  visited 
his  parishioner  and  was  quite  as  much  upset  as  she 
herself  was  over  the  information  received  from  Mr. 
McSheen.  Dr.  Capon  had  but  an  indifferent  opinion 
of  Mr.  McSheen.  He  knew  him  to  be  by  repute  a  pro 
tector  of  evildoers,  a  man  of  loose  morals  and  low  in 
stincts,  but  he  was  a  man  of  power  of  the  brute  kind 
and  of  keen  insight  into  the  grosser  conditions.  And 
his  views  as  to  the  effect  on  property  of  any  movement 
in  the  city  were  entitled  to  great  respect,  and  property, 
to  the  doctor's  mind,  was  undoubtedly  a  divine  insti 
tution.  Moreover,  a  Jew  who  assailed  it  must  have 
some  ulterior  design.  And  to  think  of  his  having  been 
permitted  to  speak  in  his  chapel!  So  Dr.  Capon  re 
turned  to  his  home  much  displeased  with  his  assistant 
and,  sitting  down,  wrote  him  a  note  immediately. 

This  note  John  Marvel  received  next  morning  in  his 
mail.  It  ran  as  follows: 

"  Mr.  Marvel  will  call  at  the  rector's  office  to-morrow, 
Tuesday,  at  11.30  promptly. 

"(Signed)  BARTHOLOMEW  CAPON,  D.D., 

"  Rectory  etc.,  etc." 

The  tone  of  the  note  struck  even  John  Marvel  and 
he  immediately  brought  it  over  to  me.  We  both  agreed 
that  the  doctor  must  have  read  the  account  of  the  raid 
on  Madam  Snow's  and  of  his  presence  there  when  the 
officers  arrived,  and  we  decided  that,  notwithstanding 
the  curtness  of  the  summons,  it  was  due  to  John  him 
self  to  go  and  make  a  simple  statement  of  the  matter. 

445 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

We  felt  indeed  that  the  interview  might  result  in  awaken 
ing  the  living  interest  of  Dr.  Capon  in  the  work  on 
which  we  had  embarked  and  securing  the  co-operation 
not  only  of  himself  but  of  the  powerful  organization 
which  he  represented  as  rector  of  a  large  church.  Dr. 
Capon  was  not  a  difficult  man;  in  his  own  way,  which 
was  the  way  of  many  others,  he  tried  to  do  good.  He 
was  only  a  worldly  man  and  a  narrow  man.  He  felt 
that  his  mission  was  to  the  rich.  He  knew  them  better 
than  the  poor  and  liked  them  better.  The  poor  had  so 
much  done  for  them,  why  should  not  he  look  after  the 
rich  ?.  Like  Simon,  he  believed  that  there  was  a  power 
in  money  which  was  unlimited. 

At  11.30  promptly  John  Marvel  presented  himself 
in  the  front  room  of  the  building  attached  to  the  church, 
in  one  corner  of  which  was  the  rector's  roomy  office.  A 
solemn  servant  was  in  waiting  who  took  in  his  name, 
closing  the  door  silently  behind  him,  and  after  a  minute 
returned  and  silently  motioned  John  Marvel  to  enter. 
Dr.  Capon  was  seated  at  his  desk  with  a  number  of 
newspapers  before  him,  and  in  response  to  John's 
"Good  morning,"  he  simply  said,  "Be  seated,"  with 
a  jerk  of  his  head  toward  a  chair  which  was  placed  at 
a  little  distance  from  him,  and  John  took  the  seat,  feel 
ing,  as  he  afterward  told  me,  much  as  he  used  to  feel 
when  a  small  boy,  when  he  was  called  up  by  a  teacher  and 
set  down  in  a  chair  for  a  lecture.  The  rector  shuffled 
his  newspapers  in  a  sudden  little  accession  of  excitement, 
taking  off  his  gold-rimmed  glasses  and  putting  them  on 
again,  and  then  taking  up  one,  he  turned  to  John. 

446 


" DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS" 

"Mr.  Marvel,  I  am  astonished  at  you — I  am  simply 
astounded  that  you  should  have  so  far  forgotten  your 
self  and  what  was  due  to  your  orders  as  to  have  done 
what  I  read  in  this  sheet  and  what  the  whole  press  is 
ringing  with." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  John,  who  had  by  this  time  gotten 
entire  control  of  himself,  and  felt  completely  at  ease  in 
the  consciousness  of  his  innocence  and  of  his  ability 
to  prove  it.  "I  am  not  surprised  that  you  should  be 
astounded  unless  you  knew  the  facts  of  the  case." 

"What  facts,  sir?"  demanded  Dr.  Capon  sternly. 
"Facts!  There  is  but  one  fact  to  be  considered. — that 
you  have  violated  a  fundamental  canon." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it  would  look  so,  and  I  had  intended  to 
come  yesterday  to  consult  you  as  to  the  best  method 

"It  is  a  pity  you  had  not  done  so — that  you  allowed 
your  sense  of  duty  to  be  so  obscured  as  to  forget  what 
was  due  alike  to  me  and  to  your  sacred  vows." 

"But  I  was  very  much  engaged,"  pursued  John, 
"with  matters  that  appeared  to  me  of  much  greater 
importance  than  anything  relating  to  my  poor  self." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  rector.  "Cease!  Cease  your 
pretences!  Mr.  Marvel,  your  usefulness  is  ended. 
Sign  that  paper!" 

He  picked  up  and  held  out  to  him  with  a  tragic  air 
a  paper  which  he  had  already  prepared  before  John 
Marvel's  arrival.  John's  mind  had  for  the  moment 
become  a  blank  to  some  extent  under  the  unexpected 
attack,  and  it  was  a  mechanical  act  by  which  his  eye 
took  in  the  fact  that  the  paper  thrust  into  his  hand  was 

447 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

a  resignation  declaring  that  it  was  made  on  the  demand 
of  the  rector  for  reasons  stated  which  rendered  it  im 
perative  that  he  sever  his  connection  with  that  parish. 

"I  will  not  sign  that  paper,"  said  John  quietly. 

"You  will  not  what?"  The  rector  almost  sprang 
out  of  his  chair. 

"I  will  not  sign  that  paper." 

"And  pray,  why  not?" 

"Because  it  places  me  in  the  position  of  acknowledg 
ing  a  charge  which,  even  if  true,  has  not  been  specifically 
stated,  and  which  is  not  true  whatever  the  appearances 
may  be,  as  I  can  readily  prove." 

"Not  true?"  the  rector  exclaimed.  "Is  it  not  true 
that  you  allowed  a  Jew  to  speak  in  your  church,  in  my 
chapel?" 

"That  I  did  what?"  asked  John,  amazed  at  the  un 
expected  discovery  of  the  rector's  reason. 

"That  you  invited  and  permitted  a  man  named 
Wolffert,  a  socialistic  Jew,  to  address  a  congregation 
in  my  chapel  ?  " 

"It  is  true,"  said  John  Marvel,  "that  I  invited  Mr. 
Wolffert  to  speak  to  an  assemblage  in  the  chapel  under 
my  charge,  and  that  he  did  so  speak  there." 

"Uttering  the  most  dangerous  and  inflammatory 
doctrines — doctrines  alike  opposed  to  the  teaching  of 
the  church  and  to  the  command  of  the  law?" 

"That  is  not  true,"  said  John.  "You  have  been 
misinformed." 

"I  do  not  wish  or  propose  to  discuss  either  this  or 
any  other  matter  with  you,  Mr.  Marvel.  You  have 

448 


"  DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS  " 

allowed  a  Jew  to  speak  in  the  house  of  God.  Your 
usefulness  is  ended.  You  will  be  good  enough  to  sign 
this  paper,  for  you  may  rest  assured  that  I  know  my 
rights  and  shall  maintain  them." 

"No,  I  will  not  sign  this  paper,"  said  John  Marvel, 
"but  I  will  resign.  Give  me  a  sheet  of  paper." 

The  rector  handed  him  a  sheet,  and  John  drew  up 
a  chair  to  the  desk  and  wrote  his  resignation  in  a  half- 
dozen  words  and  handed  it  to  the  rector. 

"Is  that  accepted?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"It  is."  The  rector  laid  the  sheet  on  his  desk  and 
then  turned  back  to  John  Marvel.  "And  now,  Mr. 
Marvel,  allow  me  to  say  that  you  grossly,  I  may  say 
flagitiously,  violated  the  trust  I  reposed  in  you  when " 

John  Marvel  held  up  his  hand.  "Stop!  Not  one 
word  more  from  you.  I  am  no  longer  your  assistant. 
I  have  stood  many  things  from  you  because  I  believed 
it  was  my  duty  to  stand  them,  so  long  as  I  was  in  a 
position  where  I  could  be  of  service,  and  because  I  felt 
it  my  duty  to  obey  you  as  my  superior  officer,  but  now 
that  this  connection  is  severed,  I  wish  to  say  that  I  will 
not  tolerate  one  more  word  or  act  of  insolence  from  you." 

"Insolence?"  cried  the  rector.  "Insolence?  You 
are  insolent  yourself,  sir.  You  do  not  know  the  mean 
ing  of  the  term." 

"Oh!  Yes,  I  know  it,"  said  John,  who  had  cooled 
down  after  his  sudden  outbreak.  "I  have  had  cause 
to  know  it.  I  have  been  your  assistant  for  two  years. 
I  bid  you  good  morning,  Dr.  Capon."  He  turned  and 
walked  out,  leaving  the  rector  speechless  with  rage. 

449 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

I  do  not  mean  in  relating  Dr.  Capon's  position  in  this 
interview  to  make  any  charge  against  others  who  might 
honestly  hold  the  same  view  which  he  held  as  to  the 
propriety  of  John  Marvel's  having  requested  Leo  Wolf- 
fert  to  speak  in  his  church,  however  much  I  myself 
might  differ  from  that  view,  and  however  I  might  think 
in  holding  it  they  are  tithing  the  mint,  anise,  and  cumin, 
and  overlooking  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law.  My 
outbreak  of  wrath,  when  John  Marvel  told  me  of  his 
interview  with  the  rector,  was  due,  not  to  the  smallness 
of  the  rector's  mind,  but  to  the  simple  fact  that  he 
selected  this  as  the  basis  of  his  charge,  when  in  truth 
it  was  overshadowed  in  his  mind  by  the  fact  that  Leo 
Wolffert's  address  had  aroused  the  ire  of  one  of  his 
leading  parishioners,  and  that  the  doctor  was  thus 
guilty  of  a  sham  in  bringing  his  charge,  not  because  of 
the  address,  but  because  of  the  anger  of  his  wealthy 
parishioner.  Wolff ert  was  savage  in  his  wrath  when 
he  learned  how  John  had  been  treated.  "Your  church 
is  the  church  of  the  rich,"  he  said  to  me;  for  he  would 
not  say  it  to  John.  And  when  I  defended  it  and 
pointed  to  its  work  done  among  the  poor,  to  its  long  line 
of  faithful  devoted  workers,  to  its  apostles  and  martyrs, 
to  John  Marvel  himself,  he  said:  "Don't  you  see  that 
Dr.  Caiaphas  is  one  of  its  high-priests  and  is  turning 
out  its  prophets  ?  I  tell  you  it  will  never  prosper  till  he 
is  turned  out  and  the  people  brought  in !  Your  Church 
is  the  most  inconsistent  in  the  world,  and  I  wonder 
they  do  not  see  it.  Its  Head,  whom  it  considers  divine 
and  worships  as  God,  lived  and  died  in  a  continual  war 

450 


"  DOCTOR  CAIAPHAS " 

against  formalism  and  sacerdotalism,  it  was  the  founda 
tion  of  all  his  teaching  for  which  he  finally  suffered 
death  at  the  hands  of  the  priests.  The  imperishable 
truth  in  that  teaching  is  that  God  is  within  you,  and  to 
be  worshipped  'in  spirit'  and  in  truth;  that  not  the 
temple  made  with  hands,  but  the  temple  of  the  body 
is  the  one  temple,  and  that  the  poor  are  his  chosen  peo 
ple — the  poor  in  heart  are  his  loved  disciples;  yet  your 
priests  arrogate  to  themselves  all  that  he  suffered  to 
overthrow.  Your  Dr.  Capon  is  only  Dr.  Caiaphas,  with 
a  few  slight  changes,  and  presumes  to  persecute  the 
true  disciples  precisely  as  his  predecessors  persecuted 
their  master." 

"He  is  not  my  Dr.  Capon,"  I  protested. 

"Oh!  well,  he  is  the  representative  of  the  ecclesiasti- 
cism  that  crucifies  spiritual  freedom  and  substitutes 
form  for  substance.  He  'makes  broad  his  phylacteries 
and  for  a  pretence  makes  long  prayers/" 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  you  are  very  fond  of  quoting 
the  Bible,  for  an  unbeliever,"  I  said. 

"I,  an  unbeliever!  I,  a  Jew!"  exclaimed  Wolffert, 
whose  eyes  were  sparkling.  "My  dear  sir,  I  am  the 
believer  of  the  ages — I  only  do  not  believe  that  any 
forms  established  by  men  are  necessary  to  bring  men 
into  communion  with  God — I  refuse  to  believe  selfish 
ness,  and  arrogance,  and  blindness,  when  they  step  forth 
with  bell,  book,  and  candle,  and  say,  obey  us,  or  be 
damned.  I  refuse  to  worship  a  ritual,  or  a  church.  I  will 
worship  only  God."  He  turned  away  with  that  detached 
air  which  has  alwavs  struck  me  as  something  oriental. 

451 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

As  soon  as  it  became  known  in  his  old  parish  that 
John  had  resigned  he  was  called  back  there;  but  the 
solicitations  of  his  poor  parishioners  that  he  should  not 
abandon  them  in  their  troubles  prevailed,  and  Wolffert 
and  I  united  in  trying  to  show  him  that  his  influence 
now  was  of  great  importance.  Indeed,  the  workers 
among  the  poor  of  every  church  came  and  besought 
him  to  remain.  Little  Father  Tapp,  patting  him  on 
the  shoulder,  said,  "  Come  to  us,  John,  the  Holy  Father 
will  make  you  a  bishop."  So  he  remained  with  his 
people  and  soon  was  given  another  small  chapel  under 
a  less  fashionable  and  more  spiritual  rector.  I  think 
Eleanor  Leigh  had  something  to  do  with  his  decision. 
I  know  that  she  was  so  urgent  for  him  to  remain  that 
both  Dr.  Capon  and  I  were  given  food  for  serious 
thought. 


452 


XXXIII 
THE  PEACE-MAKER 

It  was  in  this  condition  of  affairs  that  a  short  time 
after  John  Marvel  had  been  dismissed  from  his  cure  by 
his  incensed  rector,  a  great  dinner  was  given  by  Mrs. 
Argand  which,  because  of  the  lavishness  of  the  display 
and  the  number  of  notable  persons  in  the  city  who  were 
present,  and  also  because  of  a  decision  that  was  reached 
by  certain  of  the  guests  at  the  dinner  and  the  conse 
quences  which  it  was  hoped  might  ensue  therefrom,  was 
fully  written  up  in  the  press.  If  Mrs.  Argand  knew  one 
thing  well,  it  was  how  to  give  an  entertainment  which 
should  exceed  in  its  magnificence  the  entertainment  of 
any  other  person  in  the  city.  She  was  a  woman  of  great 
wealth.  She  had  had  a  large  experience  both  at  home 
and  abroad  in  entertainments  whose  expenditure  re 
mained  traditional  for  years.  She  had  learned  from 
her  husband  the  value,  as  a  merely  commercial  venture, 
of  a  fine  dinner.  She  knew  the  traditional  way  to  men's 
hearts,  and  she  felt  that  something  was  due  to  her  posi 
tion,  and  at  the  same  time  she  received  great  pleasure  in 
being  the  centre  and  the  dispenser  of  a  hospitality  which 
should  be  a  wonder  to  all  who  knew  her.  Her  house 
with  its  great  rooms  and  galleries  filled  with  expensive 
pictures  lent  itself  well  to  entertainment.  And  Mrs. 
Argand,  who  knew  something  of  history,  fancied  that 

453 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

she  had  what  quite  approached  a  salon.  To  be  sure, 
those  who  frequented  it  were  more  familiar  with  stock- 
exchanges  and  counting-houses  than  with  art  or 
literature.  On  this  occasion  she  had  assembled  a  num 
ber  of  the  leading  men  of  affairs  in  the  city,  with  the 
purpose  not  so  much  of  entertaining  them,  as  of  secur 
ing  from  them  a  co-operation,  which,  by  making  a 
show  of  some  concession  to  the  starving  strikers  and 
their  friends,  should  avail  to  stop  the  steady  loss  in  her 
rents  and  drain  on  even  her  great  resources.  She  had 
already  found  herself  compelled,  by  reason  of  the  reduc 
tion  in  her  income,  which  prevented  her  putting  by  as 
large  a  surplus  as  she  had  been  accustomed  to  put  by 
year  by  year,  to  cut  off  a  number  of  her  charities,  and 
this  she  disliked  to  do,  for  she  not  only  regretted  having 
to  cut  down  her  outlay  for  the  relief  of  suffering,  but 
it  was  a  blow  to  her  pride  to  feel  that  others  knew  that 
her  income  was  reduced. 

The  idea  of  the  dinner  had  been  suggested  by  no  less 
a  person  than  Dr.  Capon  himself,  to  whom  the  happy 
thought  had  occurred  that  possibly  if  a  huge  mass  meet 
ing  composed  of  the  strikers  could  be  assembled  in  some 
great  auditorium,  and  addressed  by  the  leading  men  in 
the  city,  they  might  be  convinced  of  the  folly  and  error 
of  their  ways  and  induced  to  reject  the  false  teaching  of 
their  designing  leaders  and  return  to  work,  by  which  he 
argued  the  great  suffering  would  be  immediately  re 
duced,  the  loss  alike  to  labor  and  to  capital  would  be 
stopped,  peace  would  be  restored,  and  the  general  wel 
fare  be  tremendously  advanced.  Moreover,  he  would 

454 


THE  PEACE-MAKER 

show  that  his  removal  of  his  assistant  was  not  due  to 
his  indifference  to  the  poor  as  Wolffert  had  charged  in 
a  biting  paper  on  the  episode,  but  to  a  higher  motive. 
What  John  Marvel  had  tried  on  a  small  scale  he  would 
accomplish  on  a  vast  one.  He  would  himself,  he  said, 
take  pleasure  in  addressing  such  an  audience,  and  he 
felt  sure  that  they  would  listen  to  the  friendly  admoni 
tion  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  who  could  not  but 
stand  to  them  as  the  representative  of  charity  and 
divine  compassion. 

T  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  richness  of  the  floral 
decorations  which  made  Mrs.  Argand's  great  house  a 
bower  of  roses  and  orchids  for  the  occasion,  nor  the 
lavish  display  of  plate,  gilded  and  ungilded,  which 
loaded  the  great  table,  all  of  which  was  set  forth  in  the 
press  the  following  day  with  a  lavishness  of  description 
and  a  wealth  of  superlatives  quite  equal  to  the  display 
at  the  dinner;  nor  need  I  take  time  to  describe  the 
guests  who  were  assembled.  Mr.  Leigh,  who  was  in 
vited,  was  not  present,  but  expressed  himself  as  ready 
to  meet  his  men  half-way.  Every  viand  not  in  season 
was  in  the  menu.  It  was  universally  agreed  by  the 
guests  that  no  entertainment  which  was  recalled  had  ever 
been  half  so  rich  in  its  decorations  or  so  regal  in  its  dis 
play  or  so  sumptuous  in  its  fare;  that  certainly  the  same 
number  of  millions  had  never  been  represented  in  any 
private  house  in  this  city,  or  possibly,  in  any  city  of 
the  country.  It  remains  only  to  be  said  that  the  plan 
proposed  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Capon  met  with  the  approval 
of  a  sufficient  number  to  secure  an  attempt  at  its  adop- 

455 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

tion,  though  the  large  majority  of  the  gentlemen  present 
openly  expressed  their  disbelief  that  any  good  whatever 
would  come  of  such  an  attempt,  and  more  than  one 
frankly  declared  that  the  doctor  was  attempting  to 
sprinkle  rose-water  when  really  what  was  actually 
needed  were  guns  and  bayonets.  The  doctor,  however, 
was  so  urgent  in  the  expression  of  his  views,  so  certain 
that  the  people  would  be  reasonable  and  could  not  fail 
to  be  impressed  by  a  kindly  expression  of  interest,  and 
the  sound  advice  of  one  whom  they  must  recognize  as 
their  friend,  that  a  half-derisive  consent  was  given  to  a 
trial  of  his  plan. 

Among  the  notices  of  this  dinner  was  one  which 
termed  it  "  Belshazzar's  Feast,"  and  as  such  it  became 
known  in  the  workingmen's  quarter.  Its  scorching 
periods  described  the  Babylonian  splendor  of  the  en 
tertainment  provided  for  the  officials  of  millionairedom, 
and  pictured  with  simple  art  the  nakedness  of  a  hovel 
not  five  blocks  away,  in  which  an  old  man  and  an  old 
woman  had  been  found  that  day  frozen  to  death.  I 
recognized  in  it  the  work  of  Wolff  ert's  virile  pen.  John 
Marvel  might  forgive  Dr.  Capon,  but  not  Wolff ert  Dr. 
Caiaphas.  The  proposed  meeting,  however,  excited 
much  interest  in  all  circles  of  the  city,  especially  in  that 
underlying  circle  of  the  poor  whose  circumference  cir 
cumscribed  and  enclosed  all  other  circles  whatsoever. 
What  was,  indeed,  of  mere  interest  to  others  was  of 
vital  necessity  to  them,  that  some  arrangement  should 
be  arrived  at  by  which  work  should  once  more  be  given 
to  the  ever-increasing  body  of  the  unemployed,  whose 

456 


THE  PEACE-MAKER 

sombre  presence  darkened  the  brightest  day  and  tinged 
with  melancholy  the  fairest  expectation.  In  further 
ance  of  Dr.  Capon's  plan  a  large  hall  was  secured,  and 
a  general  invitation  was  issued  to  the  public,  especially 
to  the  workingmen  of  the  section  where  the  strike  ex 
isted,  to  attend  a  meeting  set  for  the  earliest  possible 
moment,  an  evening  in  the  beginning  of  the  next  week. 
The  meeting  took  place  as  advertised  and  the  attend 
ance  exceeded  all  expectation.  The  heart  of  the  poor 
beat  with  renewed  hope,  though,  like  their  wealthy 
neighbors,  many  of  them  felt  that  the  hope  was  a 
desperate  one.  Still  they  worked  toward  the  single 
ray  of  light  which  penetrated  into  the  gloom  of  their 
situation. 

The  seats  were  filled  long  before  the  hour  set  for  the 
meeting  and  every  available  foot  of  standing  room  was 
occupied,  the  corridors  of  the  building  were  filled,  and 
the  streets  outside  were  thronged  with  groups  discussing 
the  possibility  of  some  settlement  in  low  and  earnest 
tones,  broken  now  and  then  by  some  strident  note  of 
contention  or  sullen  growl  of  hate.  Knowing  the  in 
terest  in  the  movement  throughout  the  quarter  where  I 
lived,  and  having  some  curiosity  besides  to  hear  what 
Coll  McSheen  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Capon  had  to  say,  I 
went  early  in  company  with  Wolffert  and  John  Marvel, 
the  former  of  whom  was  absolutely  sceptical,  the  latter 
entirely  hopeful  of  permanent  results.  Wolffert's  eyes 
glowed  with  a  deep  but  lambent  flame  as  he  spoke  of 
"Dr.  Caiaphas."  On  arrival  at  the  hall  he  left  us  and 
moved  to  the  front  rows.  The  crowd  on  the  platform 

457 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

represented  the  leaders  in  many  departments  of  busi 
ness  in  the  city,  among  whom  were  a  fair  sprinkling  of 
men  noted  for  their  particular  interest  in  all  public 
charities  and  good  works,  and  in  a  little  group  to  one 
side,  a  small  body  composed  of  the  more  conservative 
element  among  the  leaders  of  the  workingmen  in  the 
city.  The  whole  affair  had  been  well  worked  up  and 
on  the  outside  it  gave  a  fair  promise  of  success.  A 
number  of  boxes  were  filled  with  ladies  interested  in  the 
movement  and  I  had  not  been  in  the  hall  five  minutes 
before  I  discovered  Eleanor  Leigh  in  one  of  the  boxes, 
Aer  face  grave,  but  her  eyes  full  of  eager  expectation. 
It  was  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart  that  I  reflected  on  the 
breach  between  us,  and  I  fear  that  I  spent  my  time 
much  more  in  considering  how  I  should  overcome  it 
than  in  plans  to  relieve  the  distress  of  others. 

The  meeting  opened  with  an  invocation  by  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Capon,  which  appeared  to  strike  some  of  the  assem 
blage  as  somewhat  too  eloquent,  rather  too  long,  and 
tinged  with  an  expression  of  compassion  for  the  igno 
rance  and  facility  for  being  misguided  of  the  working 
class.  When  he  began  the  assemblage  was  highly 
reverent,  when  he  ended  there  were  murmurs  of  criti 
cism  and  discussion  audible  throughout  the  hall.  The 
introductory  statement  of  the  reason  for  the  call  was 
made  by  the  Hon.  Collis  McSheen,  who,  as  mayor  of 
the  city,  lent  the  dignity  of  his  presence  to  the  occasion. 
It  was  long,  eloquent,  and  absolutely  silent  as  to  his 
views  on  any  particular  method  of  settlement  of  the 
question  at  issue,  but  it  expressed  his  sympathy  with  all 

458 


THE  PEACE-MAKER 

classes  in  terms  highly  general  and  concluded  with  an 
impartial  expression  of  advice  that  they  should  get  to 
gether,  provided  all  could  get  what  they  wanted,  which 
appeared  to  him  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  do. 
Following  him,  one  of  the  magnates  of  the  city,  Mr. 
James  Canter,  Sr.,  delivered  a  brief  business  statement 
of  the  loss  to  the  city  and  the  community  at  large, 
growing  out  of  the  strike,  expressed  in  figures  which 
had  been  carefully  collated,  and  closed  with  the  em 
phatic  declaration  that  the  working  people  did  not 
know  what  they  wanted.  One  other  thing  he  made 
plain,  that  in  a  strike  the  working  people  suffered  most, 
which  was  a  proposition  that  few  persons  in  the  hall 
were  prepared  to  deny.  Then  came  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ca 
pon,  who  was  manifestly  the  chief  speaker  for  the  oc 
casion.  His  manner  was  graceful  and  self-assured, 
his  voice  sonorous  and  well  modulated,  and  his  tone  was 
sympathetic,  if  somewhat  too  patronizing.  His  first 
sentences  were  listened  to  with  attention.  He  expressed 
his  deep  sympathy  somewhat  as  the  mayor  had  done, 
but  in  better  English  and  more  modulated  tones,  with 
all  classes,  especially  with  the  working  people.  A  slight 
cough  appeared  to  have  attacked  one  portion  of  the 
audience,  but  it  stopped  immediately,  and  silence  once 
more  fell  on  the  assemblage  as  he  proceeded. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  as  he  advanced  a  step  nearer  to 
the  edge  of  the  platform,  and,  having  delivered  himself 
of  his  preliminary  expressions  of  condolence,  threw  up 
his  head  and  assumed  his  best  pulpit  manner,  "under  a 
full  sense  of  my  responsibility  to  my  people  and  my 

459      • 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

country  I  wish  to  counsel  you  as  your  friend,  as  the 
friend  of  the  poor" — the  slight  cough  I  have  mentioned 
became  audible  again — "as  the  friend  of  the  working- 
man  whose  interests  I  have  so  deeply  at  heart." 

At  this  moment  a  young  man  who  had  taken  a  seat 
well  to  the  front  on  the  main  aisle,  rose  in  his  seat  and 
politely  asked  if  the  doctor  would  allow  him  to  ask  him  a 
question,  the  answer  to  which  he  believed  would  enable 
the  audience  to  understand  his  position  better.  The 
pleasant  tone  of  the  young  man  led  the  doctor  to  give 
permission,  and  also  the  young  man's  appearance,  for 
it  was  Wolffert. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  sir,"  he  said. 

Wolffert  suddenly  held  up  in  his  hand  a  newspaper. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  "  to  ask  you  where  you  dined  last 
Friday  night;  with  whom?" 

The  question  provoked  a  sudden  outpour  of  shouts 
and  cheers  and  cries  of  derision,  and  in  a  moment  pande 
monium  had  broken  loose.  The  doctor  attempted  to 
speak  again  and  again,  but  about  all  that  could  be 
heard  was  his  vociferation  that  he  was  their  friend. 
Wolffert.  whose  question  had  caused  the  commotion, 
was  now  mounted  on  a  chair  and  waving  his  arms  wildly 
about  him,  and  presently,  moved  by  curiosity,  the 
tumult  subsided  and  the  audience  sat  with  their  faces 
turned  toward  the  man  on  the  chair.  He  turned,  and 
with  a  sweep  of  his  arm  toward  the  stage,  he  cried : 

"We  don't  want  to  hear  you.  What  have  you  done 
that  you  should  give  us  advice  ?  What  do  you  know  of 
us  ?  When  have  you  ever  hearkened  to  the  cry  of  the 

460 


THE  PEACE-MAKER 

destitute?  When  have  you  ever  visited  the  fatherless 
and  the  widows  in  affliction,  unless  they  were  rich  ? 
When  have  you  ever  done  anything  but  fawn  on  Herod 
and  flatter  Pontius?  Whom  are  you  here  to  help  and 
set  free  to-day?  These  people?  No!  High-priest  of 
wealth  and  power  and  usurpation,  we  know  you  and 
your  friends — the  Jesus  you  ask  to  free  is  not  the 
Nazarene,  but  Barabbas,  the  robber,  promoter  of  vice 
and  patron  of  sin ! " 

His  long  arm  pointed  at  the  platform  where  sat 
McSheen,  his  face  black  with  impotent  rage.  "If  we 
are  to  have  a  priest  to  address  us,  let  us  have  one  that 
we  can  trust.  Give  us  a  man  like  John  Marvel.  We 
know  him  and  he  knows  us."  He  turned  and  pointed 
to  Marvel. 

The  effect  was  electrical.  Shouts  of  "Marvel!  Mr. 
Marvel !  Marvel !  Marvel !  John  Marvel ! "  rang  from 
their  throats,  and  suddenly,  as  with  one  impulse,  the 
men  turned  to  our  corner  where  John  Marvel  had  sunk 
in  his  seat  to  escape  observation,  and  in  an  instant  he 
was  seized,  drawn  forth  and  lifted  bodily  on  the  shoul 
ders  of  men  and  borne  to  the  platform  as  if  on  the  crest 
of  a  tidal  wave.  Coll  McSheen  and  Dr.  Capon  were 
both  shouting  to  the  audience,  but  they  might  as  well 
have  addressed  a  tropical  hurricane.  The  cries  of 
"Marvel,  Marvel"  drowned  every  other  sound,  and 
presently  those  on  the  stage  gathered  about  both 
McSheen  and  the  rector,  and  after  a  moment  one 
of  them  stepped  forward  and  asked  John  Marvel  to 


461 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

John  Marvel  turned,  stepped  forward  to  the  edge  of 
the  platform,  and  reached  out  one  long  arm  over  the 
audience  with  an  awkward  but  telling  gesture  that  I  had 
often  seen  him  use,  keeping  it  extended  until,  after  one 
great  outburst  of  applause,  the  tumult  had  died  down. 

"My  friends,"  he  began.     Another  tumult. 

"That  is  it.     Yes,  we  are  your  friends." 

Still  the  arm  outstretched  commanded  silence. 

He  began  to  speak  quietly  and  slowly  and  his  voice 
suddenly  struck  me  as  singularly  sympathetic  and  clear, 
as  it  must  have  struck  the  entire  assembly,  for  suddenly 
the  tumult  ceased  and  the  hall  became  perfectly  quiet. 
He  spoke  only  a  few  minutes,  declaring  that  he  had  not 
come  to  speak  to  them;  but  to  be  with  them,  and  pray 
that  God  might  give  them  (he  said  "us")  peace  and 
show  some  way  out  of  the  blackness  which  had  settled 
down  upon  them.  He  bade  them  not  despair,  however 
dark  the  cloud  might  be  which  had  overshadowed  them. 
They  might  be  sure  that  God  was  beyond  it  and  that 
He  would  give  light  in  His  own  time.  He  was  leading 
them  now,  as  always — the  presence  of  that  assembly, 
with  so  many  of  the  leading  men  of  the  city  asking  a 
conference,  was  in  itself  a  proof  of  the  great  advance 
their  cause  had  made.  That  cause  was  not,  as  some 
thought,  so  much  money  a  day,  but  was  the  claim  to 
justice  and  consideration  and  brotherly  kindness.  He 
himself  was  not  a  business  man.  He  knew  nothing  of 
such  matters.  His  duty  was  to  preach — to  preach 
peace — to  preach  the  love  of  God — to  preach  patience 
and  long-suffering  and  forgiveness,  the  teaching  of  his 

462 


THE  PEACE-MAKER 

Lord  and  master,  who  had  lived  in  poverty  all  His  life, 
without  a  place  to  lay  His  head,  and  had  died  calling  on 
God  to  forgive  His  enemies. 

This  is  a  poor  summary  of  what  he  said  very  simply 
but  with  a  feeling  and  solemnity  which  touched  the 
great  audience,  who  suddenly  crushed  out  every  at 
tempt  to  contradict  his  proposition.  Something  had 
transformed  him  so  that  I  could  scarcely  recognize  him. 
I  asked  myself,  can  this  be  John  Marvel,  this  master 
of  this  great  audience  ?  What  is  the  secret  of  his  power  ? 
The  only  answer  I  could  find  was  in  his  goodness,  his 
sincerity,  and  sympathy. 

"And  now,"  he  said  in  closing,  "whatever  happens, 
please  God,  I  shall  be  with  you  and  take  my  lot  among 
you,  and  I  ask  you  as  a  favor  to  me  to  listen  to  Dr. 
Capon." 

There  was  a  great  uproar  and  shout;  for  Dr.  Capon 
had,  immediately  after  John  Marvel  got  control  of  his 
audience,  risen  from  his  seat,  seized  his  hat  and  coat 
and  cane,  and  stalked  with  great  majesty  from  the  plat 
form.  There  were,  however,  a  number  of  other  speech 
es,  and  although  there  was  much  noise  and  tumult, 
some  advance  was  made;  for  a  general,  though  by  no 
means  unanimous,  opinion  was  shown  in  favor  of  some 
thing  in  the  nature  of  a  reconciliation. 

As  I  glanced  up  after  John  Marvel  returned  amid  the 
shouts  to  his  seat,  I  saw  Miss  Leigh  in  one  of  the  boxes 
leaning  forward  and  looking  with  kindled  eyes  in  our 
direction.  Thinking  that  she  was  looking  at  me,  and 
feeling  very  forgiving,  I  bowed  to  her,  and  it  was  only 

463 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

when  she  failed  to  return  my  bow  that  I  apprehended 
that  she  was  not  looking  at  me  but  at  John  Marvel.  If 
she  saw  me  she  gave  no  sign  of  it;  and  when  I  walked 
the  streets  that  night,  strikes  and  strikers  occupied  but 
little  of  my  thoughts.  Unless  I  could  make  up  with 
Eleanor  Leigh,  the  whole  world  might  go  on  strike  for 
me.  I  determined  to  consult  John  Marvel.  He  had 
somehow  begun  to  appear  to  me  the  sanest  of  advisers. 
I  began  to  feel  that  he  was,  as  Wolffert  had  once  said 
of  him,  "  a  sort  of  Ark  of  the  Covenant." 


464 


XXXIV 

THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

My  acquaintance  was  now  extending  rapidly.  I  had 
discovered  in  the  turgid  tide  that  swept  through  the 
streets  of  the  city  other  conditions  and  moods  than 
those  I  first  remarked:  dark  brooding  shadows  and 
rushing  rapids  catching  the  light,  but  fierce  and  deadly 
beneath;  placid  pools  and  sequestered  eddies,  far 
apart  where  the  sunlight  sifted  in  and  lay  soft  on  the 
drift  that  had  escaped  the  flood,  touching  it  with  its 
magic  and  lending  it  its  sweet  radiance.  I  had  found, 
indeed,  that  the  city  was  an  epitome  of  the  world. 
It  took  a  great  many  people  to  make  it  and  there  were 
other  classes  in  it  besides  the  rich  and  the  poor.  It  was 
in  one  of  these  classes  that  I  was  beginning  to  find 
myself  most  at  home. 

I  received  one  day  an  invitation  to  dine  one  evening 
the  following  week  at  the  house  of  a  gentleman  whom 
I  had  met  a  week  or  two  before  and  whom  I  had  called 
on  in  response  to  an  invitation  unusually  cordial.  I 
had  not  been  to  a  fashionable  dinner  since  I  had  come 
to  the  West,  and  I  looked  forward  with  some  curiosity 
to  the  company  whom  I  should  meet  at  Mr.  Desport's, 
for  I  knew  nothing  about  him  except  that  I  had  met 
him  in  a  law  case  and  we  had  appeared  to  have  a  num- 

465 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

her  of  things  in  common,  including  objects  of  dislike, 
und  further,  that  when  I  called  on  him  he  lived  in  a 
very  handsome  house,  and  I  was  received  in  one  of  the 
most  charming  libraries  it  was  ever  my  good  fortune  to 
enter,  and  with  a  graciousness  on  the  part  of  his  wife 
which  I  had  never  known  excelled.  It  was  like  step 
ping  into  another  world  to  pass  from  the  rush  of  the  city 
into  that  atmosphere  of  refinement  and  culture. 

My  heart,  however,  was  a  little  lower  down  than  it 
should  have  been,  for  I  could  not  but  reflect  with  how 
much  more  pleasure  I  would  have  arrayed  myself  if  it 
had  been  an  invitation  to  Mr.  Leigh's.  In  truth,  the 
transition  from  my  narrow  quarters  and  the  poverty  of 
those  among  whom  I  had  been  living  for  some  time, 
made  this  charming  house  appear  to  me  the  acme  of 
luxury,  and  I  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  feeling,  as  I 
passed  this  evening  through  the  ample  and  dignified 
hall  into  the  sumptuous  drawing-room,  that  somehow 
I  was  well  fitted  for  such  surroundings.  Certainly  I 
found  them  greatly  to  my  taste.  I  was  received  again 
most  graciously  by  Mrs.  Desport,  and  as  I  had  followed 
my  provincial  custom  of  coming  a  little  ahead  of  time,  I 
was  the  first  visitor  to  arrive,  a  fact  which  I  did  not  re 
gret,  as  Mrs.  Desport  took  occasion  to  tell  me  something 
of  the  guests  whom  she  expected.  After  describing 
what  I  concluded  to  be  a  somewhat  staid  and  elderly 
company,  she  added: 

"I  have  given  you  a  young  lady  whom  I  feel  sure  you 
will  like.  She  is  a  little  serious-minded,  I  think,  and 
some  people  consider  that  she  is  simply  posing;  but 

466 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

however  eccentric  she  may  be,  I  believe  that  she  is 
really  in  earnest,  and  so  does  my  husband;  and  I  have 
never  seen  a  young  girl  improve  so  much  as  she  has  done 
since  she  took  up  this  new  work  of  hers." 

What  this  work  was  I  was  prevented  from  inquiring 
by  the  arrival  of  a  number  of  guests  all  at  once. 

A  dinner  where  the  guests  are  not  presented  to  each 
other  differs  in  no  important  sense  from  a  table-d'hote 
dinner.  The  soup  is  likely  to  be  a  trifle  colder  and  the 
guests  a  trifle  more  reserved — that  is  all.  Mrs.  Desport, 
however,  followed  the  old-fashioned  custom  of  intro 
ducing  her  guests  to  each  other,  preferring  to  open  the 
way  for  them  to  feel  at  home,  rather  than  to  leave  them 
floundering  among  inanities  about  the  weather  and  their 
taste  for  opera.  And  though  a  lady,  whom  I  presently 
sat  next  to,  informed  me  that  they  did  not  do  it  "in 
England  or  even  in  New  York  now,"  I  was  duly  grate 
ful. 

Having  been  presented  to  the  company,  I  found  them 
gay  and  full  of  animation,  even  though  their  conversa 
tion  was  inclined  to  be  mainly  personal  and  related 
almost  exclusively  to  people  with  whom,  for  the  most 
part,  I  had  no  acquaintance.  The  name  of  young 
Canter  figured  rather  more  extensively  in  it  than  was 
pleasant  to  me,  and  Dr.  Capon  was  handled  .with  some 
what  less  dignity  than  the  cloth  might  have  been  sup 
posed  to  require.  I  was,  however,  just  beginning  to 
enjoy  myself  when  my  attention  was  suddenly  diverted 
by  the  sound  of  a  voice  behind  me,  as  another  guest  ar 
rived.  I  did  not  even  need  to  turn  to  recognize  Eleanor 

467 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Leigh,  but  when  I  moved  around  sufficiently  to  take  a 
side  glance  at  her,  I  was  wholly  unprepared  for  the 
vision  before  me.  I  seemed  to  have  forgotten  how 
charming  she  looked,  and  she  broke  on  me  like  a  fresh 
dawn  after  a  storm.  I  do  not  know  what  I  was  think 
ing,  or  whether  I  was  not  merely  just  feeling,  when  my 
hostess  came  forward. 

"Now  we  are  all  here.  Mr.  Glave,  you  are  to  take 
Miss  Leigh  in.  You  know  her,  I  believe?" 

I  felt  myself  red  and  pale  by  turns  and,  glancing  at 
Miss  Leigh,  saw  that  she,  too,  was  embarrassed.  I  was 
about  to  stammer  something  when  my  hostess  moved 
away,  and  as  it  appeared  that  the  others  had  all  paired 
off,  there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  accept  the  situa 
tion.  As  I  walked  over  and  bowed,  I  said  in  a  low  tone: 

"  I  hope  you  will  understand  that  I  had  no  part  in  this. 
I  did  not  know." 

She  evidently  heard,  for  she  made  a  slight  bow  and 
then  drew  herself  up  and  took  my  arm. 

"I  should  not  have  come,"  I  added,  "had  I  known 
of  this.  However,  I  suppose  it  is  necessary  that  we 
should  at  least  appear  to  be  exchanging  with  ordinary 
interest  the  ordinary  inanities  of  such  an  occasion." 

She  bowed,  and  then  after  a  moment's  silence  added : 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  which  could  possibly  interest 
you,  and  suggest  that  we  do  what  I  have  heard  has  been 
done  under  similar  circumstances,  and  simply  count." 

I  thought  of  the  molten  metal  pourable  down  an 
offender's  throat.  And  with  the  thought  came  another: 
Did  it  mean  that  she  was  going  to  marry  that  young 

468 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

Canter?  It  was  as  if  one  who  had  entered  Eden  and 
discovered  Eve,  had  suddenly  found  the  serpent  coiling 
himself  between  them. 

"Very  well."  I  was  now  really  angry.  I  had  hoped 
up  to  this  time  that  some  means  for  reconciliation  might 
be  found,  but  this  dashed  my  hope.  I  felt  that  I  was 
the  aggrieved  person,  and  I  determined  to  prove  to  her 
that  I  would  make  no  concession.  I  was  not  her  slave. 
"Very  well,  then — one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 
eight — nine,  ten,  eleven,  twelve — thirteen/'  I  said, 
looking  straight  ahead  of  me  and  dropping  every  sylla 
ble  as  if  it  were  an  oath.  She  gave  me  a  barely  percep 
tible  side  glance.  I  think  I  had  taken  her  aback  by  my 
prompt  compliance.  She  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Or,  as  that  is  not  very  amusing,  suppose  we  cap 
verses  ?  I  hear  you  know  a  great  deal  of  poetry— Mr. 
Wolffert  told  me.  I  never  knew  any  one  with  such  a 
memory  as  his."  I  recognized  the  suggestion  as  a  flag 
of  truce. 

I  bowed,  and  as,  of  course,  "Mary  had  a  little  lamb," 
was  the  first  thing  that  popped  into  my  head  with  its 
hint  of  personal  application,  I  foolishly  quoted  the  first 
verse,  intending  her  to  make  the  personal  application. 

She  was  prompt  to  continue  it,  with,  I  thought,  a 
little  sub-tone  of  mischief  in  her  voice: 

"It  followed  her  to  school  one  day, 
Which  was  against  the  rule," 

she  said  demurely.  There  she  stopped,  so  I  took  up 
the  challenge. 

469 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Which  made  the  children  laugh  and  say 
'A  lamb's  a  little  fool.'  " 

It  was  a  silly  and  inept  ending,  I  knew  as  soon  as  I 
had  finished — still,  it  conveyed  my  meaning. 

She  paused  a  moment  and  evidently  started  to  look 
at  me,  but  as  evidently  she  thought  better  of  it.  She, 
however,  murmured,  "I  thought  we  would  quote  verses, 
not  make  them." 

I  took  this  to  be  a  confession  that  she  was  not  able  to 
make  them,  and  I  determined  to  show  how  much  clev 
erer  I  was;  so,  without  noticing  the  cut  of  the  eye 
which  told  of  her  wavering,  I  launched  out: 

"There  was  a  young  lady  of  fashion, 
Who,  finding  she'd  made  quite  a  mash  on 
A  certain  young  swain, 
Who  built  castles  in  Spain, 
Fell  straight  in  a  terrible  passion." 

To  this  she  responded  with  a  promptness  which  sur 
prised  me: 

"A  certain  young  lady  of  fashion, 
Had  very  good  grounds  for  her  passion, 
It  sprang  from  the  pain 
Of  a  terrible  strain 
On  her  friendship,  and  thus  laid  the  lash  on." 

I  felt  that  I  must  be  equal  to  the  situation,  so  I  began 
rapidly : 

"I'm  sure  the  young  man  was  as  guiltless 
As  infant  unborn  and  would  wilt  less 
If  thrown  in  the  fire 
Than  under  her  ire " 

470 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

"Than  under  her  ire,"  I  repeated  to  myself.  "Than 
under  the  ire" — what  the  dickens  will  rhyme  with 
"wilt  less"?  We  had  reached  the  dining-room  by  this 
time  and  I  could  see  that  she  was  waiting  with  a  pro 
voking  expression  of  satisfaction  on  her  face  over  my 
having  stalled  in  my  attempt  at  a  rhyme.  I  placed  her 
in  her  chair  and,  as  I  took  my  own  seat,  a  rhyme  came 
to  me — a  poor  one,  but  yet  a  rhyme : 

"And  since,  Spanish  castles  he's  built  less," 

I  said  calmly  as  I  seated  myself,  quite  as  if  it  had  come 
easily. 

"I  was  wondering  how  you'd  get  out  of  that,"  she 
said  with  a  little  smile  which  dimpled  her  cheek  be- 
guilingly.  "  You  know  you  might  have  said, 

"  'And  since,  milk  to  weep  o'er  he's  spilt  less'; 

or  even, 

"  'And  since,  striped  mosquitoes  he's  kilt  less.' 

Either  would  have  made  quite  as  good  a  rhyme  and 
sense,  too." 

I  did  not  dare  let  her  see  how  true  I  thought  this.  It 
would  never  do  to  let  her  make  fun  of  me.  So  I  kept 
my  serious  air. 

I  determined  to  try  a  new  tack  and  surprise  her.  I 
had  a  few  shreds  of  Italian  left  from  a  time  when  I  had 
studied  the  poets  as  a  refuge  from  the  desert  dulness  of 
my  college  course,  and  now  having,  in  a  pause,  recalled 
the  lines,  I  dropped,  as  though  quite  naturally,  Dante's 
immortal  wail: 

471 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"  '  Nessun  maggior  dolore 
Che  recordarci  del  tempo  felice 
Nella  miseria.' " 

I  felt  sure  that  this  would  at  least  impress  her  with 
my  culture,  while  if  by  any  chance  she  knew  the  lines, 
which  I  did  not  apprehend,  it  would  impress  her  all  the 
more  and  might  prove  a  step  toward  a  reconciliation. 

For  a  moment  she  said  nothing,  then  she  asked 
quietly,  "How  does  the  rest  of  it  go  ?" 

She  had  me  there,  for  I  did  not  know  the  rest  of  the 
quotation. 

"  'E  cio  sa  il  tuo  dottore,'  " 

she  said  with  a  cut  of  her  eye,  and  a  liquid  tone  that 
satisfied  me  I  had,  as  the  saying  runs,  "stepped  from  the 
frying-pan  into  the  fire." 

She  glanced  at  me  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes  that  re 
minded  me,  through  I  know  not  what  subtle  influence, 
of  Spring,  but  as  I  was  unresponsive  she  could  not  teJl 
whether  I  was  in  earnest  or  was  jesting. 

I  relapsed  into  silence  and  took  my  soup,  feeling  that 
I  was  getting  decidedly  the  worst  of  it,  when  I  heard  her 
murmuring  so  softly  as  almost  to  appear  speaking  to 
herself: 

" '  The  time  has  come/  the  Walrus  said, 
'  To  talk  of  other  things — 
Of  ships  and  shoes  and  sealing-wax, 
And  cabbages  and  Kings.'" 

I  glanced  at  her  to  find  her  eyes  downcast,  but  a  be 
guiling  little  dimple  was  flickering  near  the  corners  of 

472 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

her  mouth  and  her  long  lashes  caught  me  all  anew.  My 
heart  gave  a  leap.  It  happened  that  I  knew  my  Alice 
much  better  than  my  Dante,  so  when  she  said,  "You 
can  talk,  can't  you  ?"  I  answered  quietly,  and  quite  as 
if  it  were  natural  to  speak  in  verse  : 

"  'In  my  youth/  said  his  father,  'I  took  to  the  Law, 
And  argued  each  case  with  my  wife, 
And  the  muscular  strength  which  it  gave  to  my  jaw 
Has  lasted  the  rest  of  my  life.'  " 

She  gave  a  little  subdued  gurgle  of  laughter  as  she 
took  up  the  next  verse: 

"  'You  are  old/  said  the  youth.     'One  would  hardly  suppose 

That  your  eye  was  as  steady  as  ever, 
Yet  you  balanced  an  eel  on  the  end  of  your  nose — 
What  made  you  so  awfully  clever?'  " 

I  hoped  that  she  was  embarrassed  when  I  found  that 
she  had  taken  my  napkin  by  mistake,  and  she  was  un 
doubtedly  so  when  she  discovered  that  she  had  it. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  as  she  handed  me 
hers. 

I  bowed. 

With  that,  seeing  my  chance,  I  turned  and  spoke  to 
the  lady  on  my  other  side,  with  whom  I  was  soon  in  an 
animated  discussion,  but  my  attention  was  not  so  en 
grossed  by  her  that  I  did  not  get  secret  enjoyment  out 
of  the  fact  when  I  discovered  that  the  elderly  man  on 
the  other  side  of  Miss  Leigh  was  as  deaf  as  a  post  and 
that  she  had  to  repeat  every  word  that  she  said  to  him. 

The  lady  on  the  other  side  of  me  was  rambling  on 
473 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

about  something,  but  just  what,  I  had  not  the  least  idea 
(except  that  it  related  to  the  problem-novel,  a  form  of 
literature  that  I  detest),  as  I  was  soon  quite  engrossed 
in  listening  to  the  conversation  between  Eleanor  Leigh 
and  her  deaf  companion,  in  which  my  name,  which  ap 
peared  to  have  caught  the  gentleman's  attention,  was 
figuring  to  some  extent. 

"Any  relation  to  my  old  friend,  Henry  Glave?"  I 
heard  him  ask  in  what  he  doubtless  imagined  to  be  a 
whisper. 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Miss  Leigh. 

"You  say  he  is  not?" 

"No,  I  did  not  say  so;  I  think  he  is." 

"He  is  a  fine  lawyer,"  I  heard  him  say,  and  I  was 
just  pluming  myself  on  the  rapid  extension  of  my  repu 
tation,  when  he  added,  "He  is  an  old  friend  of  your 
father's,  I  know.  I  was  glad  to  hear  he  had  come  up  to 
represent  your  father  in  his  case  against  those  rascals. — 
A  friend  of  yours,  too,"  were  the  next  words  I  heard, 
for  decency  required  me  to  appear  to  be  giving  some  at 
tention  to  my  other  neighbor,  whom  I  devoutly  wished 
in  Ballyhac,  so  I  was  trying  resolutely,  though  with  but 
indifferent  success,  to  keep  my  attention  on  the  story  she 
was  telling  about  some  one  whom,  like  Charles  Lamb, 
I  did  not  know,  but  was  ready  to  damn  at  a  venture. 

"He  told  me  he  came  on  your  account,  as  much  as  on 
your  father's,"  said  the  gentleman,  rallyingly.  "  You  had 
better  look  out.  These  old  bachelors  are  very  suscep 
tible.  No  fool  like  an  old  fool,  you  know." 

To  this  Miss  Eleanor  made  some  laughing  reply,  from 
474 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

which  I  gathered  that  her  neighbor  was  a  bachelor  him 
self,  for  he  answered  in  the  high  key  which  he  mistook 
for  a  whisper: 

"You  had  better  not  say  that  to  me,  for  if  you  do,  I'll 
ask  you  to  marry  me  before  the  dessert." 

I  was  recalled  to  myself  by  my  other  neighbor,  who 
had  been  talking  steadily,  asking  me  suddenly,  and  in  a 
tone  which  showed  she  demanded  an  answer: 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"Why,  I  think  it  was  quite  natural,"  I  said. 

"You  do?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  I  declared  firmly. 

"You  think  it  was  natural  for  him  to  run  off  with  his 
own  daughter-in-law!"  Her  eyes  were  wide  with  aston 
ishment. 

"Well,  not  precisely  natural,  but — under  the  circum 
stances,  you  see,  it  was  certainly  more  natural  than  for 
him  to  run  off  with  his  mother-in-law — you  will  have  to 
admit  that." 

"  I  admit  nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  declared,  with  some 
heat.  "I  am  a  mother-in-law  myself,  and  I  must  say  I 
think  the  jibes  at  mothers-in-law  are  very  uncalled  for." 

"Oh!  now  you  put  me  out  of  court,"  I  said.  "I  did 
not  mean  to  be  personal.  Of  course,  there  are  mothers- 
in-law  and  mothers-in-law." 

Happily,  at  this  moment  the  gentleman  on  her  other 
side  insisted  on  securing  her  attention,  and  I  turned  just 
in  time  to  catch  the  dimples  of  amusement  that  were 
playing  in  Eleanor  Leigh's  face.  She  had  evidently 
heard  my  mistake. 

475 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Oh!  he  is  so  deaf!"  she  murmured,  half  turning  to 
me,  though  I  was  not  quite  sure  that  she  was  not 
speaking  to  herself.  The  next  second  she  settled  the 
question.  "He  is  so  distressingly  deaf,"  she  repeated 
in  an  undertone,  with  the  faintest  accent  of  appeal  for 
sympathy  in  her  voice.  I  again  recognized  the  flag  of 
truce.  But  I  replied  calmly  : 

"  I  passed  by  his  garden  and  marked  with  one  eye 
How  the  owl  and  the  panther  were  sharing  a  pie. 
The  panther  took  pie-crust  and  gravy  and  meat, 
While  the  owl  had  the  dish  as  its  share  of  the  treat/' 

The  color  mantled  in  her  cheek  and  she  raised  her 
head  slightly. 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  that  up  ?  I  suppose  we  shall 
have  to  talk  a  little.  I  think  we  are  attracting  attention. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  speak  so  loud!  We  are  being 
observed." 

But  I  continued  : 

"When  the  pie  was  all  finished,  the  owl,  as  a  boon, 
Was  kindly  permitted  to  pocket  the  spoon." 

'  It  is  very  rude  of  you  to  go  on  in  that  way  when  1 
am  speaking.      You    remind  me  of  a  machine,"  she 
smiled.     "Here  am  I  stuck  between  two  men,  one  of 
whom  cannot  hear  a  word  I  say,  while  the  other  does 
nothing  but  run  on  like  a  machine."    I  observed,  with 
deep  content,  that  she  was  becoming  exasperated. 
At  that  moment  the  hostess  leant  forward  and  said: 
"What  are  you  two  so  interested  in  discussing  there? 
476 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

I  have  been  watching,  and  you  have  not  stopped  a 
minute." 

Eleanor  Leigh  burst  into  a  laugh.  "Mr.  Glave  is 
talking  Arabic  to  me." 

"Arabic!"  exclaimed  the  hostess.  "Mr.  Glave,  you 
have  been  in  the  East,  have  you  ? " 

"Yes,  he  came  from  the  East  where  the  wise  men 
always  come  from,"  said  Miss  Leigh.  Then  turning  to 
me  she  said  in  an  undertone,  "You  see  what  I  told  you." 

For  reply,  I  simply  quoted  on,  though  I  had  a  little 
pang  as  I  saw  the  shadow  come  into  her  eyes  and  the 
smile  leave  her  mouth. 

"My  father  was  deaf, 
And  my  mother  was  dumb, 
And  to  keep  myself  company, 
I  beat  the  drum." 

"I  think  that  was  a  very  good  occupation  for  you," 
she  said,  turning  away,  with  her  head  very  high. 

"Will  you  let  me  say  something  to  you?"  she  said 
in  a  low  tone  a  moment  later,  and,  without  waiting,  she 
added : 

"  I  think  it  was  rather  nasty  in  me  to  say  what  I  said 
to  you  when  you  first  came  in,  but  you  had  treated  me 
so  rudely  when  I  spoke  to  you  on  the  street." 

"You  do  not  call  it  rude  not  to  answer  a  letter  when 
a  gentleman  writes  to  explain  an  unfortunate  mistake, 
and  then  cut  him  publicly  ?  " 

"I  did  not  receive  it  until  afterward,"  she  said.  "I 
was  away  from  town,  and  as  to  cutting  you — I  donyt 
know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

477 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"At  the  Charity  Fair." 

"I  never  saw  you.     I  wondered  you  were  not  there." 

Had  the  earth  opened,  I  could  not  have  felt  more  as 
tounded,  and  had  it  opened  near  me  I  should  possibly 
have  sprung  in  in  my  confusion.  I  had,  as  usual,  simply 
made  a  fool  of  myself,  and  what  to  do  I  scarcely  knew. 
At  this  instant  the  hostess  arose,  and  the  dinner  was  over 
and  with  it  I  feared  my  chance  was  over  too. 

"  Give  me  a  moment.  I  must  have  one  moment,"  I 
said  as  she  passed  me  on  her  way  out  of  the  dining-room 
with  the  other  ladies,  her  head  held  very  high. 

She  inclined  her  head  and  said  something  in  so  low  a 
tone  that  I  did  not  catch  it. 

King  James  I.  never  detested  tobacco  as  I  did  those 
cigars  smoked  that  evening.  When,  at  last,  the  host 
moved  to  return  to  the  drawing-room,  I  bolted  in  only 
to  be  seized  on  by  my  hostess  and  presented  to  a  middle- 
aged  and  waistless  lady  who  wanted  to  ask  me  about 
the  Pooles,  whom  she  had  heard  I  knew.  She  had 
heard  that  Lilian  Poole  had  not  married  very  happily. 
"Did  I  know?" 

"No,  I  did  not  know,"  nor,  in  fact,  did  I  care,  though 
I  could  not  say  so.  Then  another  question:  "Could 
I  tell  why  all  the  men  appeared  to  find  Miss  Leigh  so 
very  attractive?"  Yes,  I  thought  I  could  tell  that — 
"Because  she  is  very  attractive." 

"Oh  well,  yes,  I  suppose  she  is — pretty  and  all  that, 
with  a  sort  of  kitteny  softness — but " 

"There  is  no  'but'  about  it,"  I  interrupted  brusquely 
— "she  is  just  what  you  said — very  attractive.  For  one 

478 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

thing,  she  has  brains;  for  another,  heart.  Neither  of 
them  is  so  common  as  not  to  be  attractive."  I  thought 
of  the  young  tigress  concealed  in  that  "kitteny  softness" 
of  which  the  lady  spoke,  and  was  determined  not  to  per 
mit  the  sly  cat  to  see  what  I  really  felt. 

"Of  course,  you  know  that  she  is  going  to  marry  Mr. 
Canter?  He  is  the  best  parti  in  town." 

"Of  course,  I  do  not  know  anything  of  the  kind,"  I 
said  bowing.  "Since  I  had  the  honor  of  sitting  by  her 
I  am  thinking  of  marrying  her  myself." 

"I  know  it.  They  all  fall  at  the  first  encounter!" 
exclaimed  the  lady,  and  I  saw  she  had  no  humor,  and 
decided  to  hedge.  "I  only  mean  that  I  do  not  believe 
Miss  Leigh  would  marry  Mr.  Canter  or  any  one  else  for 
his  money,  or  for  any  other  reason  except  the  best." 

Finally,  having  escaped  from  her,  I  was  just  making 
my  way  toward  Miss  Leigh,  who  had  been  standing  up 
talking  to  two  men  who  on  entering  the  room  had 
promptly  sought  her  out,  when  a  servant  entered  and 
spoke  to  the  hostess,  who  immediately  crossed  over  and 
gave  his  message  to  Miss  Leigh.  "Mr.  James  Canter 
has  called  for  you ;  must  you  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  fear  I  must."  So  with  hardly  a  glance  at  me 
she  passed  out,  leaving  the  room  so  dark  that  I  thought 
the  lights  had  been  dimmed,  but  I  discovered  that  it  was 
only  that  Miss  Eleanor  Leigh  had  left.  I  could  not  in 
decency  leave  at  once,  though  I  confess  the  place  had 
lost  its  charm  for  me,  especially  since  I  learned  that  Miss 
Leigh's  escort  for  the  ball  was  Mr.  James  Canter.  I 
had  other  reasons  than  jealousy  for  preferring  that  he 

479 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

should  not  be  Eleanor  Leigh's  escort.  In  my  medi 
tations  that  night  as  I  walked  the  streets,  Mr.  James 
Canter  held  a  somewhat  conspicuous  place. 

James  Canter  was  possibly  the  most  attentive  of  all 
the  beaux  Miss  Leigh  had,  and  they  were  more  numer 
ous  than  I  at  that  time  had  any  idea  of.  He  was  pro- 
spectively  among  the  wealthiest  young  men  in  the  city, 
for  his  father,  who  idolized  him,  was  one  of  the  largest 
capitalists  in  the  State.  He  was,  as  the  stout  lady  had 
said,  certainly  esteemed  by  ambitious  mammas  among 
the  most  advantageous  partis  the  city  could  boast  of. 
And  he  was  of  all,  without  doubt,  the  most  talked  of. 
Moreover,  he  had  many  friends,  was  lavish  in  the  ex 
penditure  of  his  money  beyond  the  dream  of  extrava 
gance,  and  what  was  called,  not  without  some  reason, 
a  good  fellow.  Before  I  met  him  I  had  already  had  a 
glimpse  of  him  as  he  "  bucked  "  against  his  rival,  Count 
Pushkin,  on  the  night  when,  dejected  and  desperate,  I, 
in  a  fit  of  weakness,  went  into  the  gambling-house  deter 
mined  to  stake  my  last  dollar  on  the  turn  of  the  wheel, 
and  the  sight  of  Pushkin  saved  me.  But  it  was  after  I 
met  him  that  I  came  to  know  what  the  pampered  young 
man  was.  I  was  beginning  now  to  be  thrown  with  some 
of  the  lawyers  and  this  had  led  to  further  acquaintances, 
among  them  young  Canter.  At  first,  I  rather  liked  him 
personally,  for  he  was  against  Pushkin  and  his  gay 
manner  was  attractive.  He  was  good-looking  enough 
after  the  fleshly  kind — a  big,  round,  blondish  man,  only 
he  was  too  fat  and  at  twenty-eight  had  the  waist  and 
jowl  of  a  man  of  forty  who  had  had  too  many  dinners 

480 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

and  drunk  too  much  champagne.  But  when  I  came  to 
know  him  I  could  not  see  that  he  had  a  shred  of  prin 
ciple  of  any  kind  whatsoever.  His  reputation  among 
his  friends  was  that  had  he  applied  himself  to  business, 
he  would  have  made  a  reputation  equal  to  his  father's, 
which  was  that  of  a  shrewd,  far-sighted,  cool-headed 
man  of  business  who  could  "see  a  dollar  as  far  as  the 
best  of  them,"  but  that  he  was  squandering  his  talents 
in  sowing  a  crop  of  wild  oats  so  plentiful  that  it  was 
likely  to  make  a  hole  even  in  his  father's  accumulated 
millions,  and  its  reaping  might  be  anywhere  between 
the  poor-house  and  the  grave.  I  knew  nothing  of  this 
at  the  time,  and  after  I  came  to  know  him  as  I  did  later, 
my  judgment  of  him  took  form  from  the  fact  that  I 
discovered  he  not  only  did  not  tell  the  truth,  but  had 
lost  the  power  even  to  recognize  it.  Still,  I  think  my 
real  appraisement  of  him  came  when  I  discovered  that 
he  was  paying  assiduous  attentions  to  Miss  Leigh.  I 
could  not  help  remarking  the  frequency  with  which  I 
found  his  name  in  juxtaposition  with  hers  in  the  pub 
lished  accounts  of  social  functions,  where  "Mr.  Canter 
led  the  cotillion  with  Miss  Leigh,"  or  "Mr.  Canter  drove 
his  coach  with  Miss  Leigh  on  the  box  seat,"  etc.,  etc.,  and 
as  my  acquaintance  began  to  extend  among  the  young 
men  about  town,  I  heard  more  than  occasional  con 
jectures  as  to  their  future.  It  appeared  to  be  accepted 
rather  as  a  matter  of  course  that  the  result  lay  entirely 
with  the  young  man.  It  was  a  view  that  I  fiercely  re 
jected  in  my  heart,  but  I  could  say  nothing  beyond  a 
repudiation  of  such  a  view  in  general. 

481 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

In  view  of  my  knowledge  of  Mr.  Canter,  it  was 
natural  enough  that  I  should  be  enraged  to  find  him 
the  escort  of  Eleanor  Leigh,  and  I  fear  my  temper 
rather  showed  itself  in  the  conversation  which  took 
place  and  which  soon  became  general,  partly  because 
of  the  earnestness  with  which  I  expressed  my  views 
on  the  next  subject  that  came  up.  The  two  or  three 
young  girls  of  the  company  had  left  at  the  same  time 
with  Miss  Leigh,  and  the  ladies  who  remained  were, 
for  the  most  part,  married  women  of  that  indefinite 
age  which  follows  youth  after  a  longer  or  shorter  in 
terval.  They  had  all  travelled  and  seen  a  good  deal 
of  the  world,  and  they  knew  a  good  deal  of  it;  at  least, 
some  of  them  did  and  they  thought  that  they  knew 
more  than  they  actually  did  know. 

They  agreed  with  more  unanimity  than  they  had 
yet  shown  on  any  subject  that  America  was  hopelessly 
bourgeois.  Listening  to  them,  I  rather  agreed  with 
them. 

"Take  our  literature,  our  stage,  our  novels,"  said 
one,  a  blonde  lady  of  some  thirty-five  years,  though  she 
would,  possibly,  have  repudiated  a  lustrum  and  a  half  of 
the  measure. 

"You  differentiate  the  literature  and  the  novels?" 
I  interrupted. 

"Yes.  I  might — but — I  mean  the  lot.  How  pro 
vincial  they  are!" 

"  Yes,  they  appear  so.     Well  ?  " 

"They  do  not  dare  to  discuss  anything  large  and 
vital."  ' 

482 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

"Oh!  yes,  they  dare.  They  are  daring  enough,  but 
they  don't  know  how — they  are  stupid." 

"No,  they  are  afraid." 

"Afraid?     Of  what?" 

"Of  public  opinion — of  the  bourgeois  so-called 
virtue  of  the  middle  class  who  control  everything." 

"That  is  the  only  valid  argument  I  ever  heard  in 
favor  of  the  bourgeois,"  I  said. 

"What  do  you  mean?    Don't  you  agree  with  me?" 

"  I  certainly  do  not.  I  may  not  seek  virtue  and  ensue 
it;  but  at  least  I  revere  it." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  think  we  should  not  write  or 
talk  of  anything — forbidden?" 

"That  depends  on  what  you  mean  by  forbidden.  If 
you  mean " 

"I  think  there  should  be  no  subject  forbidden,"  in 
terrupted  the  lady  by  whom  I  had  sat  at  table,  a  stout 
and  tightly  laced  person  of  some  forty  summers.  "  Why 
shouldn't  I  talk  of  any  subject  I  please  ?  "  She  seemed 
to  appeal  to  me,  so  I  answered  her. 

"I  do  not  at  this  instant  think  of  any  reason  except 
that  it  might  not  be  decent." 

This  raised  an  uncertain  sort  of  laugh  and  appeared 
for  a  moment  to  stagger  her;  but  she  was  game,  and 
rallied. 

"I  know— that  is  the  answer  I  always  get." 

"Because  it  is  the  natural  answer." 

"  But  I  want  to  know  why  ?    Why  is  it  indecent  ?  " 

"Simply  because  it  is.  Indecent  means  unseemly. 
Your  sex  were  slaves,  they  were  weaker  physically,  less 

483 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

robust;  they  were  made  beasts  of  burden,  were  beaten 
and  made  slaves.  Then  men,  for  their  own  pleasure, 
lifted  them  up  a  little  and  paid  court  to  them,  and  finally 
the  idea  and  age  of  chivalry  came — based  on  the  high 
Christian  morality.  You  were  placed  on  a  pinnacle. 
Men  loved  and  fought  for  your  favor  and  made  it  the 
guerdon  of  their  highest  emprise,  guarded  you  with  a 
mist  of  adoration,  gave  you  a  halo,  worshipped  you 
as  something  cleaner  and  better  and  purer  than  them 
selves;  built  up  a  wall  of  division  and  protection  for 
you.  Why  should  you  go  and  cast  it  down,  fling  it  away, 
and  come  down  in  the  mire  and  dust  and  dirt  ? " 

"But  I  don't  want  to  be  adored — set  up  on  a  pedes 
tal." 

"Then  you  probably  will  not  be,"  interrupted  my 
deaf  neighbor. 

"I  want  to  be  treated  as  an  equal — as  an — an — in 
telligent  being." 

"I  should  think  that  would  depend  on  yourself.  I 
do  not  quite  understand  whom  you  wish  to  be  the  equal 
of — of  men?  Men  are  a  very  large  class — some  are 
very  low  indeed." 

"Oh!  You  know  what  I  mean — of  course,  I  don't 
mean  that  sort." 

"You  mean  gentlemen?" 

"Certainly." 

"Then  I  assure  you  you  cannot  discuss  indecent  sub 
jects  in  mixed  company;  gentlemen  never  do.  Nor 
write  coarse  books — gentlemen  never  do  nowadays — 
nor  discuss  them  either." 

484 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  great  novelists  never  dis 
cuss  such  questions?"  she  demanded  triumphantly. 

"No,  but  it  is  all  in  the  manner — the  motive.  I 
have  no  objection  to  the  matter — generally,  provided  it 
be  properly  handled — but  the  obvious  intention — the 
rank  indecentness  of  it.  See  how  Scott  or  George  Eliot, 
or  Tolstoi  or  Turge*nieff ,  or,  later  on,  even  Zola,  handles 
such  vital  themes.  How  different  their  motive  from  the 
reeking  putrescence  of  the  so-called  problem-novel." 

"Oh!  dear!  they  must  be  very  bad  indeed!"  exclaimed 
a  lady,  shocked  by  the  sound  of  my  adjectives. 

"They  are,"  suddenly  put  in  my  oldest  neighbor,  who 
had  been  listening  intently  with  his  hand  behind  his 
ear,  "only  you  ladies  don't  know  how  bad  they  are  or 
you  would  not  discuss  them  with  men." 

This  closed  the  discussion  and  a  group  of  ladies  near 
me  suddenly  branched  off  into  another  subject  and  one 
which  interested  me  more  than  the  discussion  of  such 
literature  as  the  trash  which  goes  by  the  name  of  the 
problem  novel. 

"Who  is  Eleanor  Leigh  in  love  with?"  asked  some 
one  irrelevantly — a  Mrs.  Arrow — whose  mind  appeared 
much  given  to  dwelling  on  such  problems.  She  ad 
dressed  the  company  generally,  and  possibly  my  former 
neighbor  at  the  table  in  particular. 

"Is  she  in  love?"  asked  another. 

"  Certainly,  I  never  saw  any  one  so  changed.  Why, 
she  has  been  moping  so  I  scarcely  know  her — and  she 
has  taken  to  charity.  That's  a  sure  sign.  I  think  it 
must  be  that  young  preacher  she  talks  so  much  about." 

485 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Well,  I  don't  know  who  she  is  in  love  with,"  said  the 
lady  who  had  sat  next  to  me  at  dinner,  "but  I  know 
who  she  is  going  to  marry.  She  is  going  to  marry 
Jim  Canter.  Her  aunt  has  made  that  match." 

"Oh!  do  you  think  so?"  demanded  our  hostess,  who 
had  joined  the  group.  "I  don't  believe  she  will  marry 
any  one  she  is  not  in  love  with,  and  I  can't  believe  she 
is  in  love  with  that  fat,  coarse,  dissipated  creature.  He 
is  simply  repulsive  to  me." 

I  began  to  conceive  an  even  higher  opinion  of  my 
hostess  than  I  had  already  had. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  anybody,"  continued  our  hostess. 

"Oh!  yes,  you  do — you  think  it  is  Doctor  Capon." 

"Doctor  Capon!  It  is  much  more  likely  to  be  Mr. 
Marvel." 

"Mr.  Marvel!  Who  is  he?— Oh,  yes,  the  young 
preacher  who  turned  Jew  and  was  put  out  of  his  church. 
I  remember  now." 

"Is  Mr.  Marvel  a  Jew?"  I  inquired.  "Oh!  yes,  in 
deed,  and  a  terrible  Socialist." 

"Ah,  I  did  not  know  that." 

"I  heard  she  was  going  to  marry  a  Jew,"  interjected 
another  lady  corroboratively,  "but  I  must  say  it  looks 
very  much  like  Mr.  Canter  to  me." 

"  Oh !  she  wouldn't  marry  a  Jew  ?  "  suggested  Mrs.  Ar 
row.  "  I  heard  there  was  a  young  lawyer  or  something." 

"She  would  if  she'd  a  mind  to,"  said  our  hostess. 

"I  still  stand  by  Doctor  Capon,"  declared  Mrs. 
Arrow.  "  He  is  so  refined." 

"And  I  by  Jim  Canter— I  thought  at  one  time  it  was 
486 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

Count  Pushkin;  but  since  Milly  McSheen  has  taken 
him  away,  the  other  seems  to  be  the  winning  card.  I 
must  say  I  think  the  count  would  have  been  the 
better  match  of  the  two." 

"  I  don't  think  that,"  exclaimed  the  other  lady.  "And 
neither  would  you,  if  you  knew  him." 

"Possibly,  she  knows  the  other,"  I  suggested. 

"Oh!  no— you  see  she  could  get  rid  of  the  count,  if 
he  proved  too  objectionable,  and  then  she  would  still 
have  the  title." 

"I  never  heard  a  more  infamous  proposal,"  I  said  in 
an  aside  to  our  hostess.  She  laughed.  "  No,  did  you — 
but  she  was  only  jesting 

"Not  she!"  I  was  in  no  mood  to  tolerate  jesting  on 
the  subject  of  Eleanor  Leigh's  marriage.  My  aside  to 
our  hostess  drew  the  attention  of  the  others  to  me,  and 
Mrs.  Arrow  suddenly  said,  "Mr.  Glave,  which  would 
you  say?  You  know  them  both,  don't  you?" 

"I  do." 

"Well,  which  would  you  say?" 

"Neither,"  said  I.  I  wanted  to  add  that  I  would 
cheerfully  murder  them  both  before  I  would  allow 
either  of  them  to  destroy  Eleanor  Leigh's  life;  but  I 
contented  myself  with  my  brief  reply. 

"Oh!  Mr.  Glave  is  evidently  one  of  her  victims," 
laughed  our  hostess,  for  which  I  was  grateful  to  her. 

I  came  away  from  my  friend's  with  the  heroic  de 
termination  to  prevent  Miss  Leigh's  life  from  being 
ruined  and  to  accomplish  this  by  the  satisfactory  meth 
od  of  capturing  her  myself.  My  resolve  was  a  little 

487 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

dampened  by  reading  in  a  newspaper  next  day  the 
head-lines  announcing  an  "  Important  Engagement," 
which  though  no  names  were  used  pointed  clearly 
at  Miss  Leigh  and  the  hopeful  heir  and  partner  of 
Mr.  James  Canter,  Sr.  Reading  carefully  the  article, 
I  found  that  the  engagement  was  only  believed  to 
exist.  I  felt  like  a  reprieved  criminal. 

He  who  has  not  felt  the  pangs  of  a  consuming  pas 
sion  has  no  conception  of  the  true  significance  of  life. 
The  dull,  cold,  indifferent  lover  knows  nothing  of  the 
half-ecstatic  anguish  of  the  true  lover  or  the  wholly 
divine  joy  of  reconciliation  even  in  anticipation.  As 
well  may  the  frozen  pole  dream  of  the  sun-bathed  tropic. 
It  was  this  joy  that  I  hugged  in  my  heart  even  in  face 
of  the  declaration  of  her  expected  engagement. 

Next  day  I  was  talking  to  two  or  three  young  fellows 
when  Canter  and  some  episode  in  which  he  had  figured 
as  rather  more  defiant  than  usual  of  public  opinion, 
came  up,  and  one  of  them  said  to  another,  a  friend  of 
his  and  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  "What  is  Jim  going 
to  do  when  he  gets  married  ?  He'll  have  to  give  up  his 
1  friends '  then.  He  can't  be  running  two  establishments." 

"Oh!  Jim  ain't  going  to  get  married.  He's  just 
fooling  around." 

"Bet  you — the  old  man's  wild  for  it." 

"  Bet  you — not  now.   He  can't.    Why,  that  woman — " 

"Oh!  he  can  pension  her  off." 

"Her?— which  her?" 

"Well,  all  of  'em.  If  he  don't  get  married  soon,  he 
won't  be  fit  to  marry." 

488 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

It  was  here  that  I  entered  the  conversation.  They 
had  not  mentioned  any  name — they  had  been  too  gen 
tlemanly  to  do  so.  But  I  knew  whom  they  had  in  mind, 
and  I  was  inwardly  burning. 

"He  isn't  fit  to  marry  now,"  I  said  suddenly. 

"What!"    They  both  turned  to  me  in  surprise. 

"No  man  who  professes  to  be  in  love  with  any  good 
woman,"  I  said,  "and  lives  as  he  lives  is  fit  for  any 
woman  to  marry.  I  am  speaking  generally,"  I  added, 
to  guard  against  the  suspicion  that  I  knew  whom  they 
referred  to.  "I  know  Mr.  Canter  but  slightly;  but 
what  I  say  applies  to  him  too." 

"Oh!  you'd  cut  out  a  good  many,"  laughed  one  of 
the  young  men  with  a  glance  at  his  friend. 

"No,  gentlemen,  I  stand  on  my  proposition.  The 
man  who  is  making  love  to  a  pure  woman  with  a  har 
lot's  kisses  on  his  lips  is  not  worthy  of  either.  He  ought 
to  be  shot." 

"  There Jd  be  a  pretty  big  exodus  if  your  views  were 
carried  out,"  said  one  of  them. 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to  pose  as  any  saint.  I  am  no 
better  than  some  other  men ;  but,  at  least,  I  have  some 
claim  to  decency,  and  that  is  fundamental.  Your  two- 
establishment  gentry  are  no  more  nor  less  than  a  lot  of 
thorough-paced  blackguards." 

They  appeared  to  be  somewhat  impressed  by  my 
earnestness,  even  though  they  laughed  at  it.  "There 
are  a  good  many  of  them,"  they  said.  "Your  friends, 
the  Socialists " 

"Yes.  I  know.  The  ultra-Socialist's  views  I  repro- 
489 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

bate,  but,  at  least,  he  is  sincere.  He  is  against  any 
formal  hard  and  fast  contract,  and  his  motive  is,  how 
ever  erroneous,  understandable.  He  believes  it  would 
result  in  an  uplift — in  an  increase  of  happiness  for  all. 
He  is,  of  course,  hopelessly  wrong.  But  here  is  a  man 
who  is  debasing  himself  and  others — all  others — and, 
above  all,  the  one  he  is  pretending  to  exalt  above  all. 
I  say  he  is  a  low-down  scoundrel  to  do  it.  He  is  pros 
tituting  the  highest  sentiment  man  has  ever  imagined." 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  you  are  vehement,"  said  one. 

"You've  cut  Jim  out,"  said  the  other. 

The  conversation  took  place  in  a  sort  of  lounging- 
room  adjoining  a  down-town  cafe*  frequented  by  young 
men.  At  this  moment  who  should  walk  in  but  Mr. 
James  Canter  himself.  The  talk  ceased  as  suddenly 
as  cut-off  steam,  and  when  one  of  the  young  men  after 
an  awkward  silence  made  a  foolish  remark  about  the 
fine  day,  which  was  in  reality  rainy  and  cold,  Canter's 
curiosity  was  naturally  excited. 

"What  were  you  fellows  talking  about?    Women?" 

"No,"  said  one  of  the  others — "nothing  particular." 

"Yes!"  I  said,  "we  were — talking  about  women." 

"Whose  women?" 

"Yours."     I  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eye. 

He  started,  but  recovered  himself. 

"Which  of  'em  ?"  he  inquired  as  he  flung  himself  into 
a  chair  and  looked  around  for  a  match  for  the  cigarette 
which  he  took  from  a  jewel-studded  gold  case.  "I 
am  rather  well  endowed  with  them  at  present.  What 
were  you  saying?" 

490 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 

I  repeated  my  remark  about  the  two-establishment 
gentry.  His  face  flushed  angrily;  but  my  steady  eye 
held  him  in  check  and  he  took  a  long,  inhaling 
breath. 

"Well,  I  don't  give  a  blank  what  you  think  about  it, 
or  anything  else."  He  expelled  the  smoke  from  his 
lungs. 

"Perhaps — but  that  does  not  affect  the  principle. 
It  stands.  You  may  not  care  about  the  Rock  of  Gib 
raltar;  but  it  stands  and  is  the  key  to  the  situation." 

He  was  in  a  livid  rage,  and  I  was  prepared  for  the 
attack  which  I  expected  him  to  make;  but  he  restrained 
himself.  His  forte  was  insolence. 

"You  teach  Sunday-school,  don't  you?" 

I  thought  this  was  a  reference  to  one  whose  name  I 
did  not  mean  his  lips  to  sully,  and  I  determined  to  fore 
stall  him. 

"I  do,"  I  said  quietly.     "I  teach  for  Mr.  Marvel." 

"I  know — the  psalm-singing  parson  who  has  made 
all  that  trouble  in  this  town — he  and  his  Jew  partner. 
We  are  going  to  break  them  up." 

"Both  are  men  whose  shoes  you  are  not  fit  to  clean; 
and  as  to  making  trouble,  the  trouble  was  made  by 
those  a  good  deal  nearer  you  than  John  Marvel — your 
precious  firm  and  your  side-partners— Coll  McSheen 
and  David  Wringman." 

"Well,  you'd  better  confine  your  labors  to  your  dirty 
Jews  and  not  try  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  gen 
tlemen." 

"As  to  the  latter,  I  never  interfere  in  the  affairs  of 
491 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

gentlemen,  and  as  to  the  dirty  Jews,  I  assure  you  they 
are  not  as  dirty  as  you  are;  for  their  dirt  is  all  outside 
while  yours  is  within." 

I  had  supposed  he  would  resent  this,  but  he  had  his 
reasons  for  not  doing  so,  though  they  were  none  too 
creditable  to  him.  Mr.  Canter  was  too  bold  with 
women  and  not  bold  enough  with  men.  And  a  little 
later  it  transpired  that  with  one  woman,  at  least,  he 
was  as  tame  as  he  was  with  the  other  sex.  The  woman 
the  young  men  referred  to  kept  him  in  fear  of  his  life 
for  years,  and  he  had  neither  the  physical  nor  moral 
courage  to  break  away  from  her. 


492 


XXXV 

MR.  LEIGH  HAS  A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE  MADE 

HIM 

Though  I  had  not  acted  on  the  principle,  I  had 
always  felt  that  a  young  man  had  no  right  to  pay  his 
addresses  to  a  young  lady  without  giving  some  ac 
count  of  himself  to  her  father,  or  whoever  might  stand 
in  the  relation  of  her  natural  protector;  certainly  that 
it  was  incumbent  on  a  gentleman  to  do  so.  I  felt,  there 
fore,  that  it  was  necessary  for  me  before  proceeding 
further  in  my  pursuit  of  Eleanor  Leigh  to  declare  my 
intention  to  her  father.  My  declaration  to  her  had 
been  the  result  of  a  furious  impulse  to  which  I  had 
yielded;  but  now  that  I  had  cooled,  my  principle  re 
asserted  itself.  One  trouble  was  that  I  did  not  know 
Mr.  Leigh.  I  determined  to  consult  John  Marvel,  and 
I  had  a  sneaking  hope  that  he  might  not  think  it  neces 
sary  for  me  to  speak  about  it  to  him.  I  accordingly 
went  around  to  his  room  and  after  he  had  gotten 
through  with  a  tramp  or  two,  who  had  come  to  bleed 
him  of  any  little  pittance  which  he  might  have  left,  he 
came  in.  I  bolted  into  the  middle  of  my  subject. 

"  John,  I  am  in  love."  I  fancied  that  his  countenance 
changed  slightly— I  thought,  with  surprise, 

493 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Yes.     I  know  you  are." 

"How  did  you  know  it?  I  am  in  love  with  Eleanor 
Leigh."  His  countenance  changed  a  shade  more,  and 
he  looked  away  and  swallowed  with  a  little  embarrass 
ment. 

"Yes.     I  know  that  too." 

"How  did  you  know  it?" 

He  smiled.     John  sometimes  smiled  rather  sadly. 

"I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"How?" 

"I  don't  know.     I  have  to  go  and  ask  Mr.  Leigh." 

"What!  Has  she  accepted  you?"  His  face  was, 
as  I  recalled  later,  full  of  feeling  of  some  kind. 

"No.  I  wish  to  Heaven  she  had!  If  anything,  she 
has  rejected  me, — but  that  is  nothing.  I  am  going  to 
win  her  and  marry  her.  I  am  going  to  ask  her  father's 
permission  to  pay  my  addresses  to  her,  and  then  I  don't 
care  whether  he  gives  it  or  not. — Yes,  I  do  care,  too; 
but  whether  he  does  or  not  I  am  going  to  win  her  and 
him  and  marry  her." 

"Henry,"  he  said  gently,  "you  deserve  to  win  her, 
and  I  believe,  maybe — if — "  He  went  off  into  a 
train  of  reflection,  which  I  broke  in  on. 

"I  don't  think  I  do,"  I  said  honestly,  sobered  by  his 
gentleness;  "but  that  makes  no  difference.  I  love  her 
better  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  I  mean  to  win 
her  or  die  trying.  So,  none  of  your  'maybes'  and  'ifs'. 
I  want  your  advice  how  to  proceed.  I  have  not  a  cent 
in  the  world;  am,  in  fact,  in  debt;  and  I  feel  that  I 
must  tell  her  father  so." 

494 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

"That  will  scarcely  tend  to  strengthen  your  chances 
with  him,"  said  John.  My  spirits  rose. 

"I  can't  help  that.  I  feel  that  I  must  tell  him!" 
Though  I  spoke  so  grandly,  my  tone  contained  a  query. 

"Yes,  that's  right,"  said  John  decisively.  His  mind 
had  been  working  slowly.  My  spirits  drooped. 

I  was  not  conscious  till  then  how  strongly  I  had  hoped 
that  he  might  disagree  with  me.  My  heart  quite  sank 
at  the  final  disappearance  of  my  hope.  But  I  was  in  for 
it  now.  My  principle  was  strong  enough  when  strength 
ened  by  John's  invincible  soundness. 

I  walked  into  the  building  in  which  Mr.  Leigh  had 
his  offices,  boldly  enough.  If  my  heart  thumped,  at 
least,  I  had  myself  well  in  hand.  The  clerk  to  whom 
I  addressed  myself  said  he  was  not  in,  but  was  ex 
pected  in  shortly.  Could  he  do  anything  for  me  ?  No, 
I  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Leigh  personally.  Would  I  take 
a  seat? 

I  took  a  chair,  but  soon  made  up  my  mind  that  if  I 
sat  there  five  minutes  I  would  not  be  able  to  speak.  I 
sat  just  one  minute.  At  least,  that  was  the  time  my 
watch  registered,  though  I  early  discovered  that  there 
was  no  absolute  standard  of  the  divisions  of  time.  The 
hands  of  a  clock  may  record  with  regularity  the  revo 
lutions  of  the  earth,  the  moon,  or  the  stars;  but  not  the 
passage  of  time  as  it  affects  the  human  mind.  The 
lover  in  his  mistress'  presence,  and  the  lover  waiting 
for  his  mistress,  or  for  that  matter,  for  her  father,  has 
no  equal  gauge  of  measurement  of  Time's  passage. 
With  the  one  the  winged  sandals  of  Mercury  were  not 

495 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

so  fleet,  with  the  other,  the  leaden  feet  of  Chronos  were 
not  so  dull. 

I  decided  that  I  must  get  out  into  the  air;  so,  mum 
bling  something  to  the  surprised  clerk  about  returning 
shortly,  I  bolted  from  the  office  and  walked  around  the 
block.  As  I  look  back  at  it  now,  I  was  a  rather  pitiable 
object.  I  was  undoubtedly  in  what,  if  I  were  speaking 
and  not  writing,  I  should  call  "the  deuce  of  a  funk"; 
but  for  the  sake  of  fine  English,  I  will  term  it  a  panic. 
My  heart  was  beating,  my  mouth  was  dry,  my  knees 
were  weak.  I  came  very  near  darting  off  every  time  I 
reached  a  corner,  and  I  should  certainly  have  done  so 
but  for  the  knowledge  that  if  I  did  I  should  never  get 
up  the  courage  to  come  back  again.  So  I  stuck  and 
finally  screwed  up  my  courage  to  return  to  the  office; 
but  every  object  and  detail  in  those  streets  through 
which  I  passed  that  morning  are  fastened  in  my  mind 
as  if  they  had  been  stamped  there  by  a  stroke  of  light 
ning. 

When  I  walked  in  again  the  clerk  said,  Yes,  Mr. 
Leigh  had  returned.  Would  I  take  a  seat  for  a  mo 
ment  ?  I  sat  down  in  what  was  a  chair  of  torture.  A 
man  under  certain  stress  is  at  a  great  disadvantage  in  a 
chair.  If  he  be  engaged  in  reflection,  the  chair  is  a 
proper  place  for  him;  but  if  in  action,  he  should  stand. 
Every  moment  was  an  added  burden  for  me  to  carry, 
which  was  not  lightened  when  young  Canter  walked 
out  of  the  office  and  with  a  surly  glance  at  me  passed  on. 

The  clerk  took  my  card,  entered  the  door,  and  closed 
it  after  him.  I  heard  a  dull  murmur  of  voices  within, 

496 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

and  then  after  what  appeared  to  me  an  interminable 
wait,  he  reappeared  and  silently  motioned  me  in.  I 
hated  him  for  months  for  that  silent  gesture.  It 
seemed  like  Fate. 

As  I  entered,  a  man  past  middle  age  with  a  strong  face, 
a  self-contained  mouth  and  jaw,  a  calm  brow,  and  keen 
eyes  glanced  up  from  a  note  he  was  writing  and  said: 

"Excuse  me  a  moment  if  you  please.  Won't  you 
take  a  seat?" 

I  sat  with  the  perspiration  breaking  out  as  I  watched 
the  steady  run  of  his  pen  over  the  sheet.  I  felt  as  a 
criminal  must  who  watches  the  judge  preparing  to 
pass  sentence.  At  length  he  was  through.  Then  he 
turned  to  me. 

"Well,  Mr.  Glave?" 

I  plunged  at  once  into  my  subject. 

"Mr.  Leigh,  I  am  a  young  lawyer  here,  and  I  have 
come  to  ask  your  permission  to  pay  my  addresses  to 
your  daughter." 

"Wha-t!"  His  jaw  positively  fell,  he  was  so  sur 
prised.  But  I  did  not  give  him  time. 

"I  have  no  right  to  ask  it — to  ask  any  favor  of  you, 
much  less  a  favor  which  I  feel  is  the  greatest  any  man 
can  ask  at  your  hands.  But  I — love  her — and — I — I 
simply  ask  that  you  will  give  me  your  consent  to  win 
her  if  I  can."  I  was  very  frightened,  but  my  voice  had 
steadied  me,  and  I  was  gazing  straight  in  his  eyes. 

"  Does  my  daughter  know  of  this  extraor — of  this  ?  " 
He  asked  the  question  very  slowly,  and  his  eyes  were 
holding  mine. 

497 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  hardly  know  what  she  may  divine.  I  told  her 
once  that  I  thought  a  gentleman  should  not — should 
not  try  to  marry  a  gir — a  lady  until  he  had  asked  her 
father's  permission,  and  she  is  so  clear-minded  that  I 
hardly  know " 

"Does  she  know  of  your  attachment?" 

"Yes,  sir.     I  mean,  I  told  her  once — I " 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  thought  a  gentleman  had  no 
right  to  speak  to  her  until  he  had  gained  her  father's 
consent!"  A  slight  scorn  had  crept  into  his  face. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  did — something  like  that,  though  not 
quite  that— but " 

"How  then  do  you  reconcile  the  two?"  He  spoke 
calmly,  and  I  observed  a  certain  likeness  to  his  daughter. 

"I  do  not — I  cannot.  I  do  not  try.  I  only  say  that 
in  my  cooler  moments  my  principle  is  stronger  than  my 
action.  I  gave  way  to  my  feelings  once,  and  declared 
myself,  but  when  I  got  hold  of  myself  I  felt  I  should  come 
to  you  and  give  you  some  account  of  myself." 

"  I  see."     I  began  to  hope  again,  as  he  reflected. 

"Does  my  daughter  reciprocate  this — ah — attach 
ment? 

"No,  sir.  I  wish  to  God  she  did;  but  I  hope  that 
possibly  in  time — I  might  prevail  on  her  by  my  devo 
tion."  I  was  stammering  along  awkwardly  enough. 

"Ah!" 

"I  am  only  asking  your  permission  to  declare  myself 
her  suitor  to  try  to  win — what  I  would  give  the  world 
to  win,  if  I  had  it.  I  have  no  hope  except  that  which 
comes  from  my  devotion,  and  my  determination  to  win. 

498 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

I  have  nothing  in  the  world  except  my  practice;  but 
mean  to  succeed."  I  had  got  more  confidence  now.  I 
went  on  to  give  him  an  account  of  myself,  and  I  tried 
to  tell  him  the  truth,  though  doubtless  I  gave  myself 
the  natural  benefit  of  a  friendly  historian.  I  told  him 
frankly  of  my  unfortunate  experience  in  the  matter  of 
the  contribution  to  the  Trumpet — though  I  did  not  con 
ceal  my  views  on  the  main  subject,  of  the  corporation's 
relation  to  the  public.  I  must  say  that  Mr.  Leigh  ap 
peared  an  interested  auditor,  though  he  did  not  help 
me  out  much.  At  the  end,  he  said: 

"Mr.  Glave,  I  have  some  confidence  in  my  daughter, 
sufficient — I  may  say — to  have  decided  for  some  time 
back  to  allow  her  to  manage  her  own  affairs,  and  unless 
there  were  some  insuperable  objection  in  any  given  case, 
I  should  not  interfere.  This  is  one  of  the  vital  affairs 
in  life  in  which  a  man  has  to  fight  his  own  battle.  I 
refer  you  to  my  daughter.  If  there  were  an  insuper 
able  objection,  of  course  I  should  interfere."  I  won 
dered  if  he  knew  of  Canter,  and  took  some  hope  from 
his  words. 

The  only  thing  that  gave  me  encouragement  was  that 
he  said,  just  as  I  was  leaving: 

"Mr.  Glave,  I  used  to  know  your  father,  I  believe. 
We  were  at  college  together."  I  think  I  must  have 
shown  some  feeling  in  my  face,  for  he  added,  "We  were 
very  good  friends,"  and  held  out  his  hand.  I  came 
away  drenched  with  perspiration ;  but  I  felt  that  I  had 
made  a  step  in  the  direction  of  winning  Eleanor  Leigh, 
and  almost  as  if  I  had  gained  a  friend.  At  least,  I 

499 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

liked  him,  as  self-contained  as  he  was,  for  he  looked 
at  times  like  his  daughter. 

That  evening  Miss  Leigh  observed  something  un 
usual  in  her  father's  expression,  and  finally,  after  waiting 
a  little  while  for  him  to  disclose  what  he  had  on  his  mind, 
she  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

"Dad,  what  is  it?"  she  demanded. 

Mr.  Leigh  gazed  at  her  quizzically. 

"Well,  I  have  had  a  rather  strenuous  day.  In  the 
first  place,  I  got  a  letter  from  Henry  Glave."  Miss 
Eleanor's  eyes  opened. 

"From  Henry  Glave!  What  in  the  world  is  he  writ 
ing  to  you  about?" 

"He  has  offered  me  assistance,"  said  Mr.  Leigh.  He 
took  from  his  pocket  a  letter,  and  tossed  it  across  the 
table  to  her,  observing  her  with  amusement  as  her  ex 
pression  changed.  It,  possibly,  was  not  the  Henry 
Glave  she  had  had  in  mind. 

As  she  read,  her  face  brightened.  "Isn't  that  fine! 
I  thought  he  would — "  She  stopped  suddenly. 

"You  wrote  to  him?"  said  Mr.  Leigh. 

"Yes,  but  I  didn't  know  he  would.  I  only  asked  his 
advice — I  thought  maybe,  he  possibly  might — knowing 
how  he  liked  you.  This  will  help  us  out?  You  will 
accept  his  offer,  of  course?" 

Mr.  Leigh  nodded.  "I  am  considering  it.  It  was 
certainly  very  good  in  him.  Not  every  man  is  as  grate 
ful  these  times.  My  only  question  is  whether  I  ought 
to  accept  his  offer." 

"Why  not?" 

500 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

Mr.  Leigh  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  he  was 
deep  in  reflection,  reviewing  a  past  in  which  two  older 
men  who  bore  my  name  had  borne  a  part,  and  was  try 
ing  to  look  forward  into  the  future.  Presently  he  re 
plied: 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  I  am  very  hard  pressed." 

For  answer  Eleanor  sprang  up  and  ran  around  to 
him,  and  throwing  her  arm  about  his  neck,  kissed  him. 
"You  poor,  dear  old  dad.  I  knew  you  were  in  trouble; 
but  I  did  not  like  to  urge  you  till  you  got  ready.  Tell 
me  about  it." 

Mr.  Leigh  smiled.  It  was  a  patronizing  way  she 
had  with  him  which  he  liked  while  he  was  amused  by 
it. 

"Yes.  I'm— the  fact  is,  I'm  pretty  near—"  He 
paused  and  reflected;  then  began  again,  "What  would 
you  say  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  am  almost  at  the  end 
of  my  resources?" 

The  girl's  countenance  fell  for  a  second,  then  bright 
ened  again  almost  immediately. 

"I  shouldn't  mind  it  a  bit,  except  for  you." 

Mr.  Leigh  heaved  a  sigh  which  might  have  been  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

"You  don't  know  what  it  means,  my  dear." 

"Oh!    Yes,  I  do." 

"No-o.  It  means  giving  up — everything.  Not  only 
all  luxuries;  but—"  He  gazed  about  him  at  the 
sumptuous  surroundings  in  his  dining-room,  "but  all 
this — everything.  Horses,  carriages,  servants,  pictures 
— everything.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

501 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Everything?"  Eleanor's  voice  and  look  betrayed 
that  she  was  a  little  startled. 

''Yes,"  said  her  father  with  a  nod  and  a  sigh.  "If  I 
assign,  it  would  all  have  to  go,  and  we  should  have  to 
begin  afresh." 

"Very  well.  I  am  ready.  Of  course,  I  don't  want 
to  be  broke;  but  I  am  ready.  Whatever  you  think  is 
right.  And  I  would  rather  give  up  everything — every 
thing,  than  have  you  worried  as  you  have  been  for  ever 
so  long.  I  have  seen  it." 

"Nelly,  you  are  a  brick,"  said  her  father  fondly, 
looking  at  her  in  admiration.  "How  did  you  ever  hap 
pen  to  be  your  Aunt  Sophy's  niece  ?  " 

"Her  half-niece,"  corrected  the  girl,  smiling. 

"It  was  the  other  half,"  mused  Mr.  Leigh. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  father.  How  did  it  come ?  When 
did  it  happen  ?"  she  urged,  smoothing  tenderly  the  hair 
on  his  brow. 

"It  didn't  happen.  It  came.  It  has  been  coming 
for  a  long  time.  It  is  the  conditions " 

"I  know,  those  dreadful  conditions.  How  I  hate  to 
hear  the  word !  We  used  to  get  them  when  we  were  at 
Miss  de  Pense's  school, — we  had  to  work  them  off — 
and  now  people  are  always  talking  about  them." 

"Well,  these  conditions,"  said  Mr.  Leigh  smiling, 
"seem  a  little  more  difficult  to  work  off.  I  am  rated  as 
belonging  to  the  capitalists  and  as  opposed  to  the  work 
ing  class.  The  fact  is  I  am  not  a  capitalist;  for  my 
properties  are  good  only  while  in  active  use,  all  my 
available  surplus  has  gone  into  their  betterment  for  the 

502 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

public  use,  and  I  am  a  harder-worked  man  than  any 
laborer  or  workman  in  one  of  my  shops  or  on  one  of  my 
lines." 

"That  you  are!"  exclaimed  his  daughter. 

"I  belong  to  the  class  that  produces,  and  we  are 
ground  between  the  upper  and  the  nether  millstones. 
Do  you  see?" 

Eleanor  expressed  her  assent. 

"The  fire,  of  course,  cost  us  a  lot." 

"It  was  set  on  fire,"  interrupted  his  daughter.  "I 
know  it." 

"Well,  I  don't  know — possibly.  It  looks  so.  Any 
how,  it  caught  us  at  the  top  notch,  and  while  the  in 
surance  amounts  to  something,  the  actual  loss  was  in 
calculable.  Then  came  the  trouble  with  the  bank. 
So  long  as  I  was  there  they  knew  they  could  not  go 
beyond  the  law.  So  Canter  and  the  others  got  together, 
and  I  got  out,  and,  of  course " 

"I  know,"  said  his  daughter. 

"They  asked  me  to  remain,  but — I  preferred  to  be 
free." 

"So  do  I." 

"I  had  an  overture  to-day  from  the  Canters,"  said 
Mr.  Leigh,  after  a  moment  of  reflection.  "I  do  not 
quite  know  what  it  means,  but  I  think  I  do." 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  Eleanor  looked  down  with  her  face 
slightly  averted. 

"Jim  Canter  came  from  his  father  to  propose — to 
suggest  a  modus  vivendi,  as  it  were.  It  means  that 
they  have  started  a  blaze  they  cannot  extinguish— thai 

503 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

they  are  having  trouble  with  their  people,  and  fear  that 
our  people  are  coming  around,  but  it  means  something 
further,  too,  I  think."  Mr.  Leigh  ceased  talking,  and 
appeared  to  be  reflecting. 

"What?"  said  the  girl,  after  waiting  a  moment. 

"You  know — your  aunt — however — "     He  paused. 

She  rose  and  faced  him. 

"Father,  I  wouldn't  marry  him  to  save  his  life — and 
I  have  told  both  him  and  Aunt  Sophia  so."  Mr.  Leigh 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"You,  of  course,  declined  the  proposal  they  made?" 
said  Eleanor. 

"I  did — I  think  they  have  broken  with  the  Argand 
interest.  I  saw  your  aunt  to-day,  and  had  a  talk  with 
her.  I  think  her  eyes  are  opened  at  last.  I  told  her  a 
few  plain  truths." 

He  dropped  into  reflection  and  a  quizzical  expression 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"I  had  a  very  remarkable  thing  happen  to  me 
to-day." 

"What  was  it?"  demanded  his  daughter. 

"  I  had  an  offer  of  marriage  made  me." 

Eleanor  Leigh's  face  changed — at  first  it  grew  a 
shade  whiter,  then  a  shade  redder. 

"  I  know  who  it  was,"  she  said  quickly. 

"Oh!"  Mr.  Leigh  shut  his  lips  firmly.  "I  did  not 
know." 

"She  is  a  cat!  She  has  been  sending  me  flowers 
and  opera  tickets  all  winter,  and  deluging  me  with 
invitations.  I  knew  she  was  up  to  something."  She 

504 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

spoke  with  growing  feeling,  as  her  father's  eyes  rested 
on  her  placidly  with  an  amused  expression  in  them.  "  I 
wouldn't  be  such  easy  game.  Why,  dad,  she'd  bore 
you  to  death — and  as  to  me,  I  wouldn't  live  in  the 
house  with  her — I  couldn't."  She  stood  with  mantling 
cheek  and  flashing  eye,  a  young  Amazon  girded  for 
battle. 

"I  will  relieve  you,"  said  her  father.  "It  is  not  the 
feline-natured  lady  you  have  in  mind;  but  a  person 
quite  different."  Miss  Eleanor  looked  relieved. 

"Dad— it  couldn't  be— it  was  not  Aunt  Sophia? 
That  would  explain  a  lot  of  things.  You  know  I  think 
she's  been  laying  some  snares  lately.  She  even  forgave 
me  when  I  told  her  the  other  evening  that  that  was  the 
last  time  I  would  ever  accept  an  invitation  from  Mr. 
Canter,  even  as  a  favor  to  her.  Dad,  she'd  make  you 
miserable.  You  couldn't." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Leigh.  "In  fact,  it  was  not  a  lady 
at  all.  It  was  a  person  of  the  opposite  sex,  and  the 
proposal  was  for  your  hand." 

"Dad!  Who  was  it?  Now,  dad."  She  moved 
around  the  table  to  him,  as  Mr.  Leigh,  with  eyes  twin 
kling  over  his  victory,  shut  his  mouth  firmly.  "Dad, 
you'd  just  as  well  tell  me  at  once,  for  you  know  I  am 
going  to  know,  so  you  might  as  well  tell  me  and  save 
yourself  trouble.  Who  was  it?" 

Mr.  Leigh  took  her  firmly  by  the  arms  and  seated  her 
on  his  knee. 

"Well,  it  was  a  young  man  who  appeared  quite  in 
earnest." 

505 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"It  wasn't — no,  I  know  it  wasn't  he — he  wouldn't 
have  done  that — and  it  wasn't — "  (she  pondered)  "no, 
it  wasn't  he — and  it  wasn't — "  She  suddenly  paused. 
"Tell  me,  what  did  he  say?  How  did  you  like  him? 
What  did  you  say  to  him  ?" 

"So  you  have  settled  who  it  is.  Perhaps,  you  sent 
him  to  me?" 

"Indeed,  I  did  not,  and  I  don't  know  who  it  was. 
What  did  you  tell  him?" 

"I  told  him  you  were  of  age " 

"I  am  not.     I  am  twenty." 

"No,  I  told  him  you  were  too  young — to  think  of 
such  a  thing " 

"I  am  twenty,"  repeated  the  girl. 

"That  is  what  I  told  him,"  said  Mr.  Leigh,  "and 
that  I  thought  you  were  able  to  take  care  of  yourself." 

The  girl  rested  her  chin  on  his  head  and  went  off  in 
a  reverie. 

"Dad,  we  must  hold  together,"  she  said.  Her  father 
drew  her  face  down  and  kissed  her  silently.  "  The  man 
who  takes  you  away  from  me  will  have  to  answer  with 
his  life,"  he  said. 

"  There  is  no  one  on  earth  who  could/'  said  Eleanor. 


506 


XXXVI 

THE  RIOT  AND  ITS  VICTIM 

It  is  a  terrible  thing  for  a  man  with  a  wife  and  chil 
dren  to  see  them  wasting  away  with  sheer  starvation,  to 
hear  his  babes  crying  for  bread  and  his  wife  weeping 
because  she  cannot  get  it  for  them.  Some  men  in  such 
a  situation  drown  their  sorrow  in  drink;  others  take  a 
bolder  course,  and  defy  the  law  or  the  rules  of  their 
order. 

The  Railway  Company,  still  being  forced  to  run 
their  cars,  undertook  to  comply  with  the  requirement, 
even  though  the  protection  of  the  police  was  withheld. 
The  police  were  instructed,  indeed,  to  be  present  and 
keep  the  peace,  and  a  few  were  detailed,  but  it  was 
known  to  both  sides  that  no  real  protection  would  be 
granted.  Coll  McSheen's  order  to  the  force  bore  this 
plainly  on  its  face — so  plainly  that  the  conservative 
papers  roundly  denounced  him  for  his  hypocrisy,  and 
for  the  first  time  began  to  side  decisively  with  the 
company. 

The  offer  of  increased  wages  to  new  men  was  openly 
scouted  by  the  strikers  generally.  But  in  a  few  houses 
the  situation  was  so  terrible  that  the  men  yielded.  One 
of  these  was  the  empty  and  fireless  home  of  McNeil. 
The  little  Scotchman  had  had  a  bitter  experience  and 
had  come  through  it  victorious;  but  just  as  he  was  get- 

507 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

ting  his  head  above  water,  the  new  strike  had  come — 
against  his  wishes  and  his  vote.  He  had  held  on  as 
long  as  he  could — had  held  on  till  every  article  had  gone 
— till  his  wife's  poor  under  raiment  and  his  children's 
clothes  had  gone  for  the  few  dollars  they  brought,  and 
now  he  was  face  to  face  with  starvation.  He  walked 
the  streets  day  after  day  in  company  with  a  sad  pro 
cession  of  haggard  men  hunting  for  work,  but  they 
might  as  well  have  hunted  on  the  arctic  floes  or  in  the 
vacant  desert.  For  every  stroke  of  work  there  were  a 
hundred  men.  The  answer  was  everywhere  the  same: 
"We  are  laying  men  off;  we  are  shutting  down." 

He  returned  home  one  night  hungry  and  dejected 
to  find  his  wife  fainting  with  hunger  and  his  children 
famished.  "I  will  get  you  bread,"  he  said  to  the  chil 
dren,  and  he  turned  and  went  out.  I  always  was  glad 
that  he  came  to  me  that  night,  though  I  did  not  know 
till  afterward  what  a  strait  he  was  in.  I  did  not  have 
much  to  lend  him,  but  I  lent  him  some.  His  face  was 
haggard  with  want;  but  it  had  a  resolution  in  it  that 
impressed  me. 

"I  will  pay  it  back,  sir,  out  of  my  first  wages.  I  am 
going  to  work  to-morrow." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  I  said,  for  I  thought  he  had 
gotten  a  place. 

The  next  morning  at  light  McNeil  walked  through 
the  pickets  who  shivered  outside  the  car-barn,  and  en 
tered  the  sheds  just  as  their  shouts  of  derision  and 
anger  reached  him.  "I  have  come  to  work,"  he  said 
simply.  "My  children  are  hungry." 

508 


THE  RIOT  AND  ITS  VICTIM 

The  first  car  came  out  that  morning,  and  on  the  plat 
form  stood  McNeil,  glum  and  white  and  grim,  with  a 
stout  officer  behind  him.  It  ran  down  by  the  pickets, 
meeting  with  jeers  and  cries  of  "Scab!  scab!"  and  a 
fusillade  of  stones;  but  as  the  hour  was  early  the  crowd 
was  a  small  one,  and  the  car  escaped.  It  was  some 
two  hours  later  when  the  car  reappeared  on  its  return. 
The  news  that  a  scab  was  running  the  car  had  spread 
rapidly,  and  the  street  near  the  terminus  had  filled  with 
a  crowd  wild  with  rage  and  furiously  bent  on  mischief. 
As  the  car  turned  into  a  street  it  ran  into  a  throng  that  had 
been  increasing  for  an  hour  and  now  blocked  the  way. 
An  obstruction  placed  on  the  track  brought  the  car  to  a 
stop  as  a  roar  burst  from  the  crowd  and  a  rush  was  made 
for  the  scab.  The  officer  on  the  car  used  his  stick  with 
vigor  enough,  but  the  time  had  passed  when  one  officer 
with  only  a  club  could  hold  back  a  mob.  He  was 
jerked  off  the  platform,  thrown  down,  and  trampled 
underfoot.  The  car  was  boarded,  and  McNeil,  fight 
ing  like  a  fury,  was  dragged  out  and  mauled  to  death 
before  any  other  officers  arrived.  When  the  police,  in 
force,  in  answer  to  a  riot-call,  reached  the  spot  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  later  and  dispersed  the  mob,  it  looked  as  if  the 
sea  had  swept  over  the  scene.  The  car  was  overturned 
and  stripped  to  a  mere  broken  shell ;  and  on  the  ground 
a  hundred  paces  away,  with  only  a  shred  of  bloody 
clothing  still  about  it,  lay  the  battered  and  mutilated 
trunk  of  what  had  been  a  man  trying  to  make  bread  for 
his  children,  while  a  wild  cry  of  hate  and  joy  at  the  deed 
raged  about  the  street. 

509 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

The  men  who  were  arrested  easily  proved  that  they 
were  simply  onlookers  and  had  never  been  within  fifty 
feet  of  the  car. 

The  riot  made  a  fine  story  for  the  newspapers,  and 
the  headlines  were  glaring.  The  victim's  name  was 
spelled  according  to  the  fancy  of  the  reporter  for  each 
paper,  and  was  correctly  published  only  two  days 
later. 

The  press,  except  the  Trumpet,  while  divided  in  its 
opinion  on  many  points,  combined  in  its  denouncement 
of  the  murder  of  the  driver,  and  called  on  the  city  au 
thorities  to  awake  to  the  gravity  of  the  situation  and  put 
down  violence.  It  was  indeed  high  time. 

Moved  by  the  similarity  of  the  name  to  my  friend 
McNeil,  I  walked  over  that  afternoon  to  that  part  of  the 
city  where  he  had  lived.  It  was  one  of  the  poorest 
streets  of  the  poor  section.  The  street  on  which  I  had 
lived  at  the  old  Drummer's,  with  its  little  hearth-rug 
yards,  was  as  much  better  than  it  as  the  most  fashion 
able  avenue  was  better  than  that.  The  morass,  like  a 
moving  bog,  had  spread  over  it  and  was  rapidly  en 
gulfing  it. 

The  sidewalks  were  filled  with  loafers,  men  and 
women  who  wore  the  gloomiest  or  surliest  looks.  As  I 
passed  slowly  along,  trying  to  read  the  almost  obliterated 
numbers,  I  caught  fragments  of  their  conversation.  A 
group  of  them,  men  and  women,  were  talking  about  the 
man  who  had  been  killed  and  his  family.  The  uni 
versal  assertion  was  that  it  served  him  right,  and  his 
family,  too.  I  gleaned  from  their  talk  that  the  family 

510 


THE  RIOT  AND  ITS  VICTIM 

had  been  boycotted  even  after  lie  was  dead,  and  that  he 
had  had  to  be  buried  by  the  city,  and,  what  was 
more,  that  the  cruel  ostracism  still  went  on  against  his 
family. 

"Ay-aye,  let  'em  starve,  we'll  teach  'em  to  take 
the  bread  out  of  our  mouths,"  said  one  woman,  while 
another  told  gleefully  of  her  little  boy  throwing  stones 
at  the  girl  as  she  came  home  from  outside  somewhere. 
She  had  given  him  a  cake  for  doing  it.  The  others  ap 
plauded  both  of  these.  The  milk  of  human  kindness 
appeared  to  be  frozen  in  their  breasts. 

"Much  good  it  will  do  you!  Do  you  get  any  more 
money  for  doing  it?"  said  an  old  man  with  round 
shoulders  and  a  thin  face;  but  even  he  did  not  seem 
to  protest  on  account  of  the  cruelty.  It  was  rather  a 
snarl.  Two  or  three  young  men  growled  at  him; 
but  he  did  not  appear  afraid  of  them ;  he  only  snarled 
back. 

I  asked  one  of  the  men  which  house  was  the  one  I 
was  seeking.  He  told  me,  while  half  a  dozen  hooted 
something  about  the  "scab." 

When  I  came  to  the  door  pointed  out  I  had  no  diffi 
culty  in  recognizing  it.  The  panels  and  sides  were 
"daubed"  up  with  mud,  which  still  stuck  in  many 
places,  showing  the  persecution  which  had  been  carried 
on.  Inside,  I  never  saw  a  more  deplorable  sight.  The 
poor  woman  who  came  to  the  door,  her  face  drawn  with 
pain  and  white  with  terror,  and  her  eyes  red  with  weep 
ing,  would  not  apparently  have  been  more  astonished 
to  have  found  a  ghost  on  the  steps.  She  gave  a  hasty, 

511 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

frightened  glance  up  the  street  in  both  directions,  and 
moaned  her  distress. 

"Won't  you  step  inside?"  she  asked,  more  to  get  the 
door  closed  between  her  and  the  terror  of  the  street 
than  out  of  any  other  feeling;  and  when  I  was  inside, 
she  asked  me  over  again  what  I  wanted.  She  could  not 
take  in  that  I  had  called  out  of  charity;  she  appeared  to 
think  that  it  was  some  sort  of  official  visit.  When  she 
found  out,  however,  that  such  was  my  object,  the  effect 
was  instantaneous.  At  first  she  could  not  speak  at  all; 
but  after  a  little  she  was  calm  enough  and  poured  out 
ail  her  woes.  She  went  over  anew  how  her  husband 
had  come  over  from  Scotland  several  years  before  and 
they  had  been  quite  comfortably  fixed.  How  he  had 
gotten  work,  and  had  belonged  to  the  union,  and  they 
had  done  well.  He  had,  however,  been  obliged  by  the 
union  to  strike,  and  they  had  spent  all  the  money  they 
had,  and  in  addition  to  that  had  gotten  into  debt.  So, 
when  the  strike  was  over,  although  he  obtained  work 
again,  he  was  in  debt,  and  the  harassment  of  it  made 
him  ill.  Then  how  he  had  come  North  to  find  work, 
and  had  had  a  similar  experience.  All  this  I  knew.  It 
was  just  then  that  her  last  baby  was  born  and  that  her 
little  child  died,  and  the  daughter  of  the  employer  of  her 
husband  was  so  kind  to  her,  that  when  her  husband 
got  well  again,  there  was  talk  of  a  strike  to  help  others 
who  were  out,  and  she  made  him  resign  from  the  union. 
Here  she  broke  down.  Presently,  however,  she  re 
covered  her  composure.  They  had  come  to  her  then, 
she  said,  and  told  her  they  would  ruin  him. 

512 


THE  RIOT  AND  ITS  VICTIM 

"But  I  did  not  think  they  would  kill  him,  sir,"  she 
sobbed.  "He  tried  to  get  back,  but  Wringman  kept 
him  out.  That  man  murdered  him,  sir." 

There  was  not  a  lump  of  coal  in  the  house;  but  her 
little  girl  had  gone  for  some  cinders,  while  she  minded 
the  baby.  She  had  to  go  where  she  was  not  known — a 
long  way,  she  said — as  the  children  wrould  not  let  her 
pick  any  where  she  used  to  get  them. 

When  I  came  out  I  found  that  it  had  turned  many 
degrees  colder  during  the  short  time  I  was  in  the  house, 
and  the  blast  cut  like  a  knife.  The  loafers  on  the  street 
had  thinned  out  under  the  piercing  wind;  but  those 
who  yet  remained  jeered  as  I  passed  on.  I  had  not  got 
ten  very  far  when  I  came  on  a  child,  a  little  girl,  creep 
ing  along.  She  was  bending  almost  double  under  the 
weight  of  a  bag  of  cinders,  and  before  I  reached  her  my 
sympathy  was  excited  by  the  sight  of  her  poor  little 
bare  hands  and  wrists,  which  were  almost  blue  with 
cold.  Her  head,  gray  with  the  sifted  ashes,  was  tucked 
down  to  keep  her  face  from  the  cutting  wind,  and  when 
I  came  nearer  I  heard  her  crying — not  loud;  but  rather 
wailing  to  herself. 

"What  is  the  matter,  little  girl  ?"  I  asked. 

"My  hands  are  so  cold— Oh!  Oh!  Oh!"  she  sobbed 

"Here,  let  me  warm  them."  I  took  the  bag  and  set 
it  down,  and  took  her  little  ashy  hands  in  mine  to  try 
and  warm  them,  and  then  for  the  first  time  I  discovered 
that  it  was  my  little  girl,  Janet.  She  was  so  changed 
that  I  scarcely  knew  her.  Her  little  pinched  face,  like 
her  hair,  was  covered  with  ashes.  Her  hands  were  ice. 

513 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

When  I  had  gotten  some  warmth  into  them  I  took 
off  my  gloves  and  put  them  on  her,  and  I  picked  up 
her  bag  and  carried  it  back  for  her.  My  hands 
nearly  froze,  but  somehow  I  did  not  mind  it.  I  had 
such  a  warm  feeling  about  my  heart.  I  wonder 
men  don't  often  take  off  their  gloves  for  little  poor 
children. 

I  marched  with  her  through  the  street  near  her  house, 
expecting  to  be  hooted  at,  and  I  should  not  have  minded 
it;  for  I  was  keyed  up  and  could  have  fought  an  army. 
But  no  one  hooted.  If  they  looked  rather  curiously  at 
me,  they  said  nothing. 

As  I  opened  the  door  to  leave,  on  the  steps  stood  my 
young  lady.  It  is  not  often  that  a  man  opens  a  door 
and  finds  an  angel  on  the  step  outside;  but  I  did  it  that 
evening.  I  should  not  have  been  more  surprised  if  I 
had  found  a  real  one.  But  if  one  believes  that  angels 
never  visit  men,  these  days,  he  should  have  seen  Eleanor 
Leigh  as  she  stood  there.  She  did  not  appear  at  all 
surprised.  Her  eyes  looked  right  into  mine,  and  I  took 
courage  enough  to  look  into  hers  for  an  instant.  I  have 
never  forgotten  them.  They  were  like  deep  pools, 
clear  and  bottomless,  filled  with  light.  She  did  not  look 
at  all  displeased  and  I  did  not  envy  St.  Martin. 

All  she  said  was,  "How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Glave?"  It 
was  quite  as  if  she  expected  to  find  me  there— and 
she  had.  She  had  seen  me  stop  little  Janet  and  put 
the  gloves  on  her.  She  was  on  her  way  to  the  house, 
and  she  had  stopped  and  waited,  and  then  had  fol 
lowed  us.  I  did  not  know  this  until  long  afterward; 

514 


THE  RIOT  AND  ITS  VICTIM 

but  I  asked  her  to  let  me  wait  and  see  her  home,  and 
so  I  did. 

That  walk  was  a  memorable  one  to  me.  The  period 
of  explanations  was  past.  I  dared  harbor  the  hope 
that  I  was  almost  in  sight  of  port.  When  I  put  her  on 
the  car,  she  was  so  good  as  to  say  her  father  would  be 
glad  to  see  me  some  time  at  their  home,  and  I  thought 
she  spoke  with  just  the  least  little  shyness,  which  made 
me  hope  that  she  herself  would  not  be  sorry. 

When  I  left  her,  I  went  to  see  my  old  Drummer,  and 
told  him  of  the  outrages  which  had  been  perpetrated  on 
the  poor  woman.  It  was  worth  while  seeing  him.  He 
was  magnificent.  As  long  as  I  was  talking  only  of  the 
man,  he  was  merely  acquiescent,  uttering  his  "Ya, 
Ya,"  irresponsively  over  his  beer;  but  when  I  told  him 
of  the  woman  and  children,  he  was  on  his  feet  in  an  in 
stant—  "Tamming  te  strikers  and  all  teir  vorks."  He 
seized  his  hat  and  big  stick,  and  pouring  out  gutturals 
so  fast  that  I  could  not  pretend  to  follow  him,  ordered 
me  to  show  him  the  place.  As  he  strode  through  the 
streets,  I  could  scarcely  keep  up  with  him.  His  stick 
rang  on  the  frozen  pavement  like  a  challenge  to  battle. 
And  when  he  reached  the  house  he  was  immense.  He 
was  suddenly  transformed.  No  mother  could  have 
been  tenderer,  no  father  more  protecting.  He  gathered 
up  the  children  in  his  great  arms,  and  petted  and  soothed 
them;  his  tone,  a  little  while  before  so  ferocious,  now  as 
soft  and  gentle  as  the  low  velvet  bass  of  his  great  drum. 
I  always  think  of  the  Good  Shepherd  now  as  something 
like  him  that  evening;  rugged  as  a  rock,  gentle  as  a 

515 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

zephyr.  He  would  have  taken  them  all  to  his  house  and 
have  adopted  them  if  the  woman  would  have  let  him. 
His  heart  was  bigger  than  his  house.  He  seemed  to 
have  filled  all  the  place;  to  have  made  it  a  fortress. 

The  strike  had  cast  its  black  cloud  over  all  the  sec 
tion,  and  not  all  of  its  victims  were  murdered  by  the 
mob. 

I  fell  in  with  the  man  who  had  spoken  to  me  so 
cheerily  one  morning  of  the  sun's  shining  for  him.  He 
looked  haggard  and  ill  and  despairing.  He  was  out  of 
work  and  could  find  none.  In  our  talk  he  did  not 
justify  the  strike;  but  he  bowed  to  it  with  resignation 
as  a  stricken  Orestes  might  have  bowed  to  the  blows  of 
Fate.  His  spirit  was  not  then  broken — it  was  only 
embittered.  His  furniture  which  was  so  nearly  paid 
for  had  gone  to  the  loan  sharks;  his  house  of  which  he 
boasted  had  reverted  to  the  Building  Company.  He 
looked  fully  twenty  years  older  than  when  I  had  seen 
him  last.  I  offered  him  a  small  sum  which  he  took 
gratefully.  It  was  the  first  money  he  had  had  in  weeks, 
he  said,  and  the  stores  had  stopped  his  credits.  A  few 
weeks  later  I  saw  him  staggering  along  the  street,  his 
heart-eating  sorrow  drowned  for  an  hour  in  the  only 
nepenthe  such  poverty  knows, 


516 


XXXVII 

WOLFFERT'S  NEIGHBORS 

I  had  not  been  to  visit  Wolffert  and,  indeed,  had  but 
a  hazy  idea  of  where  he  lived,  knowing  only  that  he  had 
a  room  in  the  house  of  some  Jew  in  the  Jewish  quarter. 
Hitherto  our  meetings  had  taken  place  either  in  John 
Marvel's  narrow  little  quarters  or  in  mine  at  the  old 
Drummer's.  But  having  learned  from  John  that  he 
was  ill,  I  got  the  address  from  him,  and  one  afternoon 
went  over  to  see  him.  I  found  the  place  in  a  region 
more  squalid  than  that  in  which  John  Marvel  and  I  had 
our  habitation  and  as  foreign  as  if  it  had  been  in  Judea 
or  in  a  Black  Sea  province.  In  fact,  it  must  have  ex 
hibited  a  mixture  of  both  regions.  The  shops  were 
small  and  some  of  them  gay,  but  the  gayest  was  as 
mean  as  the  most  sombre.  The  signs  and  notices  were 
all  in  Yiddish  or  Russian,  the  former  predominating, 
and  as  I  passed  through  the  ill-paved,  ill-smelling,  reek 
ing  streets  I  could  scarcely  retain  my  conviction  that  I 
was  still  in  an  American  city.  It  was  about  the  hour 
that  the  manufactories  of  clothing,  etc.,  closed  and  the 
street  through  which  I  walked  was  filled  with  a  moving 
mass  of  dark  humanity  that  rolled  through  it  like  a  dark 
and  turgid  flood.  For  blocks  they  filled  the  sidewalk, 
moving  slowly  on,  and  as  I  mingled  in  the  mass,  and 

517 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

caught  low,  guttural,  unknown  sounds,  and  not  a  word 
of  English  all  the  while,  I  became  suddenly  aware  of  a 
strange  alien  feeling  of  uncertainty  and  almost  of  op 
pression.  Far  as  eye  could  see  I  could  not  descry  one 
Saxon  countenance  or  even  one  Teuton.  They  were 
all  dark,  sallow,  dingy,  and  sombre.  Now  and  then  a 
woman's  hat  appeared  in  the  level  moving  surge  of 
round  black  hats,  giving  the  impression  of  a  bubble 
floating  on  a  deep,  slow  current  to  melt  into  the  flood. 
Could  this,  I  reflected  sombrely,  be  the  element  we  are 
importing?  and  what  effect  would  the  strange  con 
fluence  have  on  the  current  of  our  life  in  the  future? 
No  wonder  we  were  in  the  throes  of  a  strike  vast  enough 
to  cause  anxiety! 

I  was  still  under  the  dominion  of  this  reflection  when 
I  reached  the  street  in  which  Wolffert  had  his  home,  and, 
after  some  difficulty,  discovered  the  house  in  which  he 
had  his  abode. 

The  street  was  filled  with  wretched  little  shops,  some 
more  wretched  than  others,  all  stuck  together  in  a 
curious  jumble  of  tawdry  finery  and  rusty  necessities. 
Among  them  were  many  shops  where  second-hand 
clothing  was  exhibited,  or,  from  appearances,  clothing 
for  which  that  term  was  a  flattering  euphuism.  I 
stopped  at  one  where  second-hand  shoes  were  hung 
out,  and,  opening  the  door  to  ask  the  way,  faced  a  stout, 
shapeless  woman  with  a  leathery  skin  and  a  hooked 
nose,  above  which  a  pair  of  inquisitive  black  eyes  rested 
on  me,  roving  alternately  from  my  feet  to  my  face,  with 
an  expression  of  mingled  curiosity,  alarm,  and  hostility. 

518 


WOLFFERT'S  NEIGHBORS 

I  asked  her  if  she  could  tell  me  where  the  number  I 
wanted  was,  and  as  my  inquiry  caused  not  the  least 
change  of  expression,  I  took  out  my  card  and  wrote  the 
number  down.  She  gazed  at  it  in  puzzled  silence,  and 
then  with  a  little  lighting  of  her  dark  face,  muttered  a 
few  unintelligible  words  and  bustled  back  to  where  a 
curtain  hung  across  the  narrow  shop,  and  lifting  one 
corner  of  it  gave  a  call  which  I  made  out  to  be  some 
thing  like  "Jacob."  The  next  moment  a  small,  keen- 
looking  boy  made  his  way  from  behind  the  curtain  and 
gazed  at  me.  A  few  words  passed  between  the  two,  in 
a  tongue  unknown  to  me,  and  then  the  boy,  laying  down 
a  book  that  he  carried  in  his  hand,  came  forward  and 
asked  me  in  perfectly  good  English,  "What  is  it  you 
want?" 

"  I  want  to  know  where  number  5260J Street  is. 

I  have  that  address,  but  cannot  find  the  number." 

"  I'll  show  you."  His  eyes  too  were  on  my  shoes.  "  The 
numbers  of  the  streets  were  all  taken  down  last  year,  and 
have  not  been  put  back  yet.  That  is  where  Mr. 
Wolff ert  lives.  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  going  to  see  him." 

He  turned  and  said  something  rapidly  to  his  mother, 
in  which  the  only  word  I  recognized  was  Wolffert's 
name.  The  effect  was  instantaneous.  The  expression 
of  vague  anxiety  died  out  of  the  woman's  face  and  she 
came  forward  jabbering  some  sort  of  jargon  and  show- 
;ng  a  set  of  yellow,  scattering  teeth. 

"I'll  show  you  where  he  lives.  You  come  with  me," 
said  Jacob.  "She  thought  you  were  an  agent."  He 

519 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

suddenly  showed  a  much  better  set  of  teeth  than  his 
mother  could  display — "She  don't  speak  English,  you 
see."  He  had  laid  down  his  book  on  the  counter  and 
he  now  put  on  his  cap.  As  he  passed  out  of  the  door 
he  paused  and  fastened  his  eyes  on  my  feet.  "You 
don't  want  a  pair  of  shoes?  We  have  all  sorts  — 
some  as  good  as  new.  You  can't  tell.  Half  the  price, 
too." 

I  declined  the  proffered  bargain,  and  we  walked  up 
the  street,  Jacob  discoursing  volubly  of  many  things,  to 
show  his  superior  intelligence. 

"What  was  your  book?"  I  inquired. 

"U.  S.  History.     I'm  in  the  sixth  grade." 

"So?  I  should  think  you  are  rather  small  to  be  so 
high?"  My  ideas  of  grades  were  rather  hazy,  having 
been  derived  from  "  Tom  Brown  at  Rugby  "  and  such 
like  encyclopaedias. 

"Pah!  I  stand  next  to  head,"  he  cried  contempt 
uously. 

"You  do !    Who  stands  head ? " 

"Iky  Walthiemer — he's  fourteen  and  I  ain't  but 
twelve.  Then  there  is  a  fellow  named  Johnson — 
Jimmy  Johnson.  But  he  ain't  nothin'I" 

"He  isn't ?     What's  the  matter  with  him ?" 

"He  ain't  got  no  eye  on  him — he  don't  never  ^oe 
nothin'." 

"You  mean  he's  dull?" 

"Sure!  Just  mem'ry,  that's  all.  He's  dull.  vVe 
beat  'em  all." 

"Who  are  'we'?" 

520 


WOLFFERT'S  NEIGHBORS 
"We  Jews." 

«Q<     )) 

"Well,  here  we  are.  I'll  run  up  and  show  you  the 
door"— as  we  stopped  at  a  little  butcher  shop  beside 
which  was  a  door  that  evidently  led  up  a  stair  to  the 
upper  story. 

"All  right.     You  know  Mr.  Wolff ert ? " 

"Sure!    We  all  know  him.    He's  a  Jew,  too." 

"Sure!"  I  tried  to  imitate  his  tone,  for  it  was  not 
an  accent  only. 

He  ran  up  the  stair  and  on  up  a  second  flight  and 
back  along  a  dark,  narrow  little  passage,  where  he 
tapped  on  a  door,  and,  without  waiting,  walked  in. 

"Here's  a  man  to  see  you." 

"A  gentleman,  you  mean,"  I  said  dryly,  and  followed 
him,  for  I  have  a  particular  aversion  to  being  referred 
to  to  my  face  as  a  mere  man.  It  is  not  a  question  of 
natural  history,  but  of  manners. 

"Well,  Jacob,"  said  Wolff  ert  when  he  had  greeted 
me,  "have  you  got  to  the  top  yet?" 

"Will  be  next  week,"  said  Jacob  confidently. 

I  found  Wolffert  sitting  up  in  a  chair,  but  looking 
wretchedly  ill.  He,  however,  declared  himself  much 
better.  I  learned  afterward — though  not  from  him — 
that  he  had  caught  some  disease  while  investigating 
some  wretched  kennels  known  as  "lodging  houses," 
where  colonies  of  Jews  were  packed  like  herrings  in  a 
barrel;  and  for  which  a  larger  percentage  on  the  value 
was  charged  as  rental  than  for  the  best  dwellings  in  the 
city.  His  own  little  room  was  small  and  mean  enough, 

521 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

but  it  was  comfortably  if  plainly  furnished,  and  there 
were  books  about,  which  always  give  a  homelike  air, 
and  on  a  little  table  a  large  bunch  of  violets  which  in 
stantly  caught  my  eye.  By  some  inexplicable  sixth 
sense  I  divined  that  they  had  come  from  Eleanor  Leigh ; 
but  I  tried  to  be  decent  enough  not  to  be  jealous;  and 
Wolffert's  manifest  pleasure  at  seeing  me  made  me  feel 
humble. 

We  had  fallen  to  talking  of  his  work  when  I  said, 
" Wolff ert,  why  do  you  live  in  this  horrible  quarter? 
No  wonder  you  get  ill.  Why  don't  you  get  a  room  in  a 
more  decent  part  of  the  town — near  where  John  Marvel 
lives,  for  instance  ?  " 

Wolffert  smiled. 

"Why ?— what  is  the  matter  with  this?" 

"Oh!  Why,  it  is  dreadful.  Why,  it's  the  dirtiest, 
meanest,  lowest  quarter  of  the  city!  I  never  saw  such 
a  place.  It's  full  of  stinking" — I  was  going  to  say 
"Jews";  but  reflected  in  time  to  substitute  "holes." 

Wolffert,  I  saw,  supplied  the  omitted  objection. 

"Do  you  imagine  I  would  live  among  the  rich?"  he 
demanded;  "I  thought  you  knew  me  better.  I  don't 
want  to  be  fattened  in  the  dark  like  a  Strasbourg  goose 
for  my  liver  to  make  food  acceptable  to  their  jaded 
appetites.  Better  be  a  pig  at  once." 

"No,  but  there  are  other  places  than  this — and  I 
should  think  your  soul  would  revolt  at  this—"  I 
swung  my  arm  in  a  half  circle. 

"Are  they  not  my  brethren?"  he  said,  half  smiling. 

"Well,  admit  that  they  are—"  (And  I  knew  all 
522 


WOLFFERT'S  NEIGHBORS 

along  that  this  was  the  reason.)  "There  are  other 
grades — brethren  of  nearer  degree." 

"None,"  he  ejaculated.  '"I  dwell  among  my  own 
people ' — I  must  live  among  them  to  understand  them." 

"I  should  think  them  rather  easy  to  understand." 

"I  mean  to  be  in  sympathy  with  them,"  he  said 
gently.  "Besides,  I  am  trying  to  teach  them  two  or 
three  things." 

"What?"  For  I  confess  that  my  soul  had  revolted 
at  his  surroundings.  That  surging,  foreign-born,  for 
eign-looking,  foreign-spoken  multitude  who  had  filled 
the  street  as  I  came  along  through  the  vile  reek  of 
"Little  Russia,"  as  it  was  called,  had  smothered  my 
charitable  feelings. 

"Well,  for  one  thing,  to  learn  the  use  of  freedom — 
for  another,  to  learn  the  proper  method  and  function  of 
organization." 

"They  certainly  appear  to  me  to  have  the  latter  al 
ready — simply  by  being  what  they  are,"  I  said  lightly. 

"I  mean  of  business  organization,"  Wolff ert  ex 
plained.  "I  want  to  break  up  the  sweat  shop  and  the 
sweat  system.  We  are  already  making  some  headway, 
and  have  thousands  in  various  kinds  of  organized 
business  which  are  quite  successful." 

"  I  should  not  think  they  would  need  your  assistance 
— from  what  I  saw.  They  appear  to  me  to  have  an 
instinct." 

"They  have,"  said  Wolff  ert,  "but  we  are  teaching 
them  how  to  apply  it.  The  difficulty  is  their  ignorance 
and  prejudice.  You  think  that  they  hold  you  in  some 

523 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

distrust  and  dislike,  possibly?"    As  his  tone  implied 
a  question,  I  nodded. 

"Well,  that  is  nothing  to  the  way  in  which  they  re 
gard  me.  You  they  distrust  as  a  gentile,  but  me  they 
detest  as  a  renegade." 

"Well,  I  must  say  that  I  think  you  deserve  what  you 
get  for  bringing  in  such  a  mass  of  ignorance.  Now, 
you  are  an  American,  and  a  patriotic  one.  How  do  you 
reconcile  it  with  your  patriotism  to  introduce  into  the 
body  politic  such  an  element  of  ignorance,  superstition, 
and  unrest?" 

"Why,"  said  Wolffert,  "you  don't  know  our  people. 
The  Jew  is  often  an  element  of  ignorance  and  super 
stition,  though  he  is  not  alone  in  this,  but  he  is  never 
an  element  of  unrest— when  he  is  justly  treated,"  he 
added  after  a  pause.  "But,  whatever  these  people  are 
in  this  generation,  the  next  generation — the  children  of 
this  generation — will  be  useful  American  citizens.  All 
they  require  is  a  chance.  Why,  the  children  of  these 
Russian  Jews,  baited  from  their  own  country,  are  win 
ning  all  the  prizes  in  the  schools,"  he  added,  his  pale 
face  flushing  faintly.  "That  lad  who  showed  you  in  is 
the  son  of  parents  who  sell  second-hand  shoes  in  the 
next  street  and  cannot  speak  a  word  of  English,  and 
yet  he  stands  at  the  head  of  his  class." 

"No,  second!  "I  said. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"He  told  me." 

"The  little  rascal!  See  how  proud  he  is  of  it,"  said 
Wolffert  triumphantly. 

524 


WOLFFERT'S  NEIGHBORS 

"He  tried  to  sell  me  a  pair  of  shoes." 

Wolffert  chuckled.  "Did  he?"  Then  he  sobered, 
catching  my  thought.  "That  is  the  most  important 
thing  for  him  at  present,  but  wait.  Let  this  develop." 
He  tapped  his  forehead.  "He  may  give  you  laws 
equal  to  Kepler's  or  a  new  philosophy  like  Bacon's.  He 
may  solve  aerial  navigation — or  revolutionize  thought  in 
any  direction — who  knows!" 

His  face  had  lighted  up  as  he  proceeded,  and  he  was 
leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  glowing. 

"I  know,"  I  said,  teasingly.  "He'll  sell  shoes- 
second-hand  ones  polished  up  for  new." 

I  was  laughing,  but  Wolffert  did  not  appreciate  my 
joke.  He  flushed  slightly. 

"That's  your  gentile  ignorance,  my  friend.  That's 
the  reason  your  people  are  so  dense — they  never  learn — 
they  keep  repeating  the  same  thing.  No  wonder  we 
discover  new  worlds  for  you  to  claim!" 

"What  new  worlds  have  you  discovered  ?" 

"Well,  first,  Literature,  next  commerce.  What  is 
your  oldest  boasted  scripture?" 

"I  thought  you  were  talking  of  material  worlds!" 

"We  helped  about  that,  too — did  our  full  part.  You 
think  Queen  Isabella  pawned  her  jewels  to  send  Christo- 
bal  Colon  to  discover  America — don't  you?" 

I  nodded. 

"Well,  the  man  who  put  up  the  money  for  that  little 
expedition  was  a  Jew—  'Arcangel,  the  Treasurer.' 
You  never  heard  of  him ! " 

"Never." 

525 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"He  did  it  all  the  same.  If  you  would  read  some 
thing  else  beside  your  narrow  English  writings,  Glave, 
you  would  learn  something  of  the  true  history  of  civili 
zation."  Now  and  then  Wolffert's  arrogance,  like 
Antipater's,  showed  through  the  rents  in  his  raiment. 

"What  for  instance  ?  since  you  appear  to  know  it  all." 

"Well,  almost  any  other  history  or  philosophy. 
Read  the  work  of  the  thinkers  old  and  new — and  see  how 
much  deeper  life  is  than  the  shallow  thing  called  by 
that  divine  name  by  the  butterflies  and  insects  and  rep 
tiles  who  flaunt  their  gauzy  vans  in  our  faces  or  fasten 
their  brazen  claws  in  our  vitals.  Meantime,  you  might 
read  my  book,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "when  it  comes 
out." 

"Well,  tell  me  about  it  meantime  and  save  me  the 
trouble.  I  sometimes  prefer  my  friends  to  their  books." 

"You  were  always  lazy,"  he  said  smiling.  But  he 
began  to  talk,  laying  down  his  philosophy  of  life, 
which  was  simple  enough,  though  I  could  not  follow 
him  very  far.  I  had  been  trained  in  too  strict  a  school 
to  accept  doctrines  so  radical.  And  but  that  I  saw  him 
and  John  Marvel  and  Eleanor  Leigh  acting  on  them  I 
should  have  esteemed  them  absolutely  Utopian.  As  it 
was,  I  wondered  how  far  Eleanor  Leigh  had  inspired 
his  book. 


526 


XXXVIII 

WOLFFERT'S  PHILOSOPHY 

(WHICH   MAY   BE   SKIPPED   BY  THE   READER) 

As  Wolffert  warmed  up  to  his  theme,  his  face  bright 
ened  and  his  deep  eyes  glowed. 

"The  trouble  with  our  people — our  country — the 
world — is  that  our  whole  system — social — commercial — 
political — every  activity  is  based  on  greed,  mere,  sheer 
greed.  State  and  Church  act  on  it — live  by  it.  The 
success  of  the  Jew  which  has  brought  on  him  so  much 
suffering  through  the  ages  has  revenged  itself  by  stamp 
ing  on  your  life  the  very  evil  with  which  you  charge  him 
— love  of  money.  What  ideals  have  we?  None  but 
money.  We  call  it  wealth.  We  have  debased  the 
name,  and  its  debasement  shows  the  debasement  of  the 
race.  Once  it  meant  weal,  now  mere  riches,  though 
employed  basely,  the  very  enemy  and  assassin  of  weal. 
The  covetousness,  whose  reprobation  in  the  last  of  the 
commandments  was  intended  as  a  compendium  to  em 
brace  the  whole,  has  honeycombed  our  whole  life, 
public  and  private.  The  amassing  of  riches,  not  for 
use  only,  for  display — vulgar  beyond  belief — the  squan 
dering  of  riches,  not  for  good,  but  for  evil,  to  gratify 
jaded  appetites  which  never  at  their  freshest  craved 
anything  but  evil  or  folly,  marks  the  lowest  level  of  the 

527 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

shopkeeping  intellect.  The  Argands  and  the  Canters 
are  the  aristocrats  of  the  community,  and  the  Capons 
are  the  fit  priests  for  such  people." 

He  turned  away  in  disgust — but  I  prodded  him. 

"What  is  your  remedy?  You  criticise  fiercely!  but 
give  no  light.  You  are  simply  destructive." 

"The  remedy  is  more  difficult  to  give,"  he  said 
gravely;  "because  the  evil  has  been  going  on  so  long 
that  it  has  become  deep-rooted.  It  has  sunk  its  roots 
into,  not  only  the  core  of  our  life,  but  our  character.  It 
will  take  long  to  eradicate  it.  But  one  economic  evil 
might  be,  and  eventually  must  be  changed,  unless  we 
wish  to  go  down  into  the  abyss  of  universal  corruption 
and  destruction." 

"You  mean ?" 

"Capitalism— the  idea  that  because  a  man  is  acci 
dentally  able  to  acquire  through  adventitious  and  often 
corrupt  means  vast  riches  which  really  are  not  made  by 
himself,  but  by  means  of  others  under  conditions  and 
laws  which  he  did  not  create,  he  may  call  them  his 
own;  use  them  in  ways  manifestly  detrimental  to  the 
public  good  and,  indeed,  often  in  notorious  destructive- 
ness  of  it,  and  be  protected  in  doing  so  by  those  laws." 

"  '  Accidentally  ' — and  '  adventitious  means  '  \  That 
does  not  happen  so  often.  It  may  happen  by  finding 
a  gold  mine — once  in  ten  thousand  times — or  by  corner 
ing  some  commodity  on  the  stock  or  Produce  Exchange 
once  in  one  hundred  thousand  times,  but  even  then  a 
man  must  have  intellect — force — courage — resource 
fulness — wonderful  powers  of  organization." 

528 


WOLFFERT'S  PHILOSOPHY 

"So  has  the  burglar  and  highwayman,"  he  inter 
rupted. 

"But  they  are  criminals — they  break  the  law." 

"What  law?  j  Why  law  more  than  these  others?  Is 
not  the  fundamental  law,  not  to  do  evil  to  others  ?" 

"The  law  established  by  society  for  its  protection." 

"Who  made  those  laws?" 

"The  people — through  their  representatives,"  I 
added  hastily,  as  I  saw  him  preparing  to  combat  it. 

"The  people,  indeed!  precious  little  part  they  have 
had  in  the  making  of  the  laws.  Those  laws  were  made, 
not  by  the  people — who  had  no  voice  in  their  making, 
but  by  a  small  class — originally  the  Chief — the  Em 
peror — the  King — the  Barons — the  rich  Burghers — the 
people  had  no  part  nor  voice." 

"They  received  the  benefit  of  them." 

"Only  the  crumbs  which  fell  from  their  masters' 
tables.  They  got  the  gibbet,  the  dungeon,  the  rack, 
and  the  stick." 

"  Wolff ert,  you  would  destroy  all  property  rights." 

"My  dear  fellow,  what  nonsense  you  talk.  I  am 
only  for  changing  the  law  to  secure  property  rights  for 
all,  instead  of  for  a  class,  the  necessity  for  which  no 
longer  exists,  if  it  ever  did  exist." 

"Your  own  law-giver  recognized  it  and  inculcated  it." 
I  thought  this  a  good  thrust.  He  waved  it  aside. 

"That  was  for  a  primitive  people  in  a  primitive  age, 
as  your  laws  were  for  your  people  in  their  primitive 
age.  But  do  you  suppose  that  Moses  would  make  no 
modification  now?" 

529 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  have  no  idea  that  he  would.  For  I  believe  they 
were  divine." 

"Surely — Moses  acted  under  the  guidance  of  the  great 
Jehovah,  whose  law  is  justice  and  equity  and  righteous 
ness.  The  laws  he  gave  were  to  inculcate  this,  and 
they  served  their  purpose  when  Israel  served  God. 
But  now  when  He  is  mocked,  the  letter  of  the  law  is 
made  an  excuse  and  is  given  as  the  command  to  work 
injustice  and  inequity  and  unrighteousness.  Surely 
they  should  be,  at  least,  interpreted  in  the  spirit  in 
which  they  were  given.  You  claim  to  be  a  Christian  ?" 

"A  very  poor  one." 

"In  name,  at  least,  you  claim  that  there  has  been  a 
new  dispensation  ?  " 

"Yes — an  amplification — a  development  and  evo 
lution." 

"Precisely.  In  place  of  an  'eye  for  an  eye,  and  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth — the  other  cheek  turned — to  do  to 
others  as  you  would  have  them  do  to  you!' ' 

"That  is  the  ideal.  I  have  not  yet  reached  that  de 
gree  of "  I  paused  for  the  word. 

"I,  too,  acknowledge  that  evolution,  that  ideal. 
Why  should  we  not  act  on  it  ?" 

"Because  of  human  nature.  We  have  not  yet 
reached  the  stage  when  it  can  be  practically  applied." 

"But  human  nature  while  it  does  not  change  basic 
ally  may  be  regulated,  developed,  uplifted,  and  this 
teaching  is  based  on  this  principle.  It  has  not  yet 
borne  much  apparent  fruit,  it  is  true;  but  it  is  sound, 
nevertheless.  We  both  in  our  better  moments,  at 

530 


WOLFFERT'S  PHILOSOPHY 

least,  feel  it  to  be  sound,  and  there  has  been  a  little, 
however  little  uplift,  and  however  hard  to  maintain. 
"You  believe  in  the  development  of  man;  but  you 
look  only  to  his  material  development.  I  look  for  his 
complete  development,  material  and  spiritual.  As  he 
has  advanced  through  the  countless  ages  since  God 
breathed  into  him  the  breath  of  Life,  and  by  leading 
him  along  the  lines  of  physical  development  to  a  station 
in  creation  where  the  physical  evolution  gave  place  to 
the  ever-growing  psychical  development;  so  I  believe 
he  is  destined  to  continue  this  psychical  or  spiritual 
growth,  increasing  its  power  as  the  ages  pass  and 
mounting  higher  and  higher  in  spiritual  knowledge, 
until  he  shall  attain  a  degree  of  perfection  that  we  only 
think  of  now  as  a  part  of  the  divine.  We  see  the  poet 
and  the  saint  living  to-day  in  an  atmosphere  wholly  dis 
tinct  from  the  gross  materialism  of  common  humanity. 
We  see  laws  being  enacted  and  principles  evolved  which 
make  for  the  improvement  of  the  human  race.  We  see 
the  gradual  uplifting  and  improvement  of  the  race. 
War  is  being  diminished;  its  horrors  lessened;  food  is 
becoming  more  diffused;  civilization — material  civiliza 
tion — is  being  extended;  and  the  universal,  fundamental 
rights  are  being  a  little  more  recognized,  however  dimly. 
This  means  growth — the  gradual  uplifting  of  mankind, 
the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  as  well  as  of  food — the 
growth  of  intellectuality.  And  as  this  comes,  think 
you  that  man  will  not  rise  higher?  A  great  reservoir 
is  being  tapped  and  from  it  will  flow,  in  the  future, 
rich  streams  to  fertilize  the  whole  world  of  humanity. 

531 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Aspirations  will  leap  higher  and  higher,  and  the  whole 
race  in  time  will  receive  new  light,  new  power,  new 
environments,  with  an  ever-widening  horizon,  and  a 
vast  infinitude  of  spiritual  truth  as  the  field  for  the 
soul's  exercise." 

"It  is  a  dream,"  I  said,  impressed  by  his  burning 
eyes,  his  glowing  face,  as  he  drifted  on  almost  in  a 
rhapsody. 

"Yes — a  dream;  but  it  might  come  true  if  all — if 
you  and  all  like  you — I  mean  all  educated  and  trained 
people,  would  unite  to  bring  it  about.  Your  leader 
preached  it,  you  profess  the  principles  now,  but  do  not 
practise  them.  The  State  has  been  against  it — the 
Church  equally.  It  is  full  of  sham." 

"It  was  Jerusalem  that  stoned  the  prophets,"  I  in 
terrupted.  He  swept  on  with  a  gesture. 

"Yes,  yes — I  know — I  am  not  speaking  now  as  a 
sectarian." 

"  But,  at  least,  as  a  Jew,"  I  said,  laughing. 

"Yes,  perhaps.  I  hardly  know.  I  know  about 
Hannan  the  High  Priest.  He  tried  to  stand  in  with 
Pilate.  He  thought  he  was  doing  his  duty  when  he  was 
only  fighting  for  his  caste.  But  what  an  Iliad  of  woes 
he  brought  on  his  people — through  the  ages.  But  now 
they  know,  they  profess,  and  yet  stone  the  prophets. 
Your  church,  founded  to  fight  riches  and  selfishness 
and  formalism,  is  the  greatest  exploiter  of  all  that  the 
world  knows.  Two  generations  sanctify  the  wealth 
gotten  by  the  foulest  means.  The  robber,  the  mur 
derer,  the  destroyer  of  homes  are  all  accepted,  and 

532 


WOLFFERT'S  PHILOSOPHY 

if  one  protests  he  is  stoned  to-day  as  if  he  were  a 
blasphemer  of  the  law.  If  the  Master  to  whom  your 
churches  are  erected  should  come  to-day  and  preach  the 
doctrines  he  preached  in  Judea  nineteen  hundred  years 
ago,  he  would  be  cast  out  here  precisely  as  he  was  cast 
out  there."  He  spoke  almost  fiercely. 

"Yet  his  teachings,"  he  added,  "are  nearer  those  of 
the  people  I  represent  than  of  those  who  assail  them. 
Why  should  we  not  act  on  it?  Possibly,  some  others 
might  see  our  good  works,  and  in  any  event  we  shall 
have  done  our  part.  John  Marvel  does." 

"I  know  he  does,  but  he  is  a  better  Christian  than  I 
am,  and  so  are  you." 

"I  am  not  a  Christian  at  all.     I  am  only  a  Jew." 

"Will  you  say  that  His  teachings  have  had  no  part 
in  forming  your  character  and  life?" 

"  Not  my  character.  My  father  taught  me  before  I  was 
able  to  read.  Possibly  I  have  extended  his  teachings!" 

"Have  His  teachings  had  no  part  in  deciding  you  as 
to  your  work  ?  " 

"His  teachings?  John  Marvel's  exposition  of  them 
in  his  life  bore  a  part  and,  thus,  perhaps " 

"That  is  it." 

"Why  should  I  not  participate  in  the  benefit  of  the 
wisdom  of  a  Jewish  rabbi  ?"  said  Wolff ert,  scornfully. 
"Did  Jesus  utter  his  divine  philosophy  only  for  you 
who  were  then  savages  in  Northern  Europe  or  half- 
civilized  people  in  Greece,  Italy,  and  Spain?  Your 
claim  that  he  did  so  simply  evinces  the  incurable  in 
sularity  of  your  people." 

533 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"  What  is  your  remedy  ?    Socialism  ?  " 

"Call  it  what  you  will.  That  is  a  name  which  some 
prefer  and  some  detest.  The  fact  is,  that  the  profit 
system  on  which  all  Modern  Capitalism  rests  is  radi 
cally  and  fundamentally  vicious  and  wrong.  Men 
work  and  strive,  not  to  produce  for  use,  for  service,  but 
for  profit.  Profit  becomes  the  aim  of  human  endeavor 
— nothing  higher  or  better — Competition." 

"  'Competition/  "  I  quoted,  "  'is  the  soul  of  trade.'  " 

"Competition,"  he  said,  "may  be  the  soul  of  trade, 
but  that  trade  is  the  trade  in  men's  souls,  as  well  as 
bodies — in  the  universal  soul  of  the  people.  It  sets  man 
against  man,  and  brother  against  brother — Cain 
against  Abel — and  is  branded  with  the  curse  of  Cain." 

"What  would  you  substitute  for  it?"  I  demanded. 

"The  remedy  is  always  a  problem.  I  should  try  co 
operation — in  this  age." 

"Co-operation!  It  has  been  proved  an  absolute 
failure.  It  makes  the  industrious  and  the  thrifty  the 
slave  of  the  idle  and  spendthrift.  Men  would  not 
work." 

"An  idle  and  time-worn  fallacy.  The  ambitious  do 
not  work  for  gold,  the  high-minded  do  not — John 
Marvel  does  not — Miss  Leigh  does  not.  The  poor  do 
not  work  for  wealth,  only  for  bread,  for  a  crust,  with 
starvation  ever  grinning  at  them  beside  their  door  which 
cannot  shut  out  its  grisly  face.  Look  at  your  poor 
client  McNeil.  Did  he  work  to  accumulate  gold  ?  He 
worked  to  feed  his  starving  children." 

"  But,  would  they  work — this  great  class  ?  " 
534 


WOLFFERT'S  PHILOSOPHY 

"Yes,  they  would  have  to  work,  all  who  are  capable  of 
it,  but  for  higher  rewards.  We  would  make  all  who  are 
capable,  work.  We  would  give  the  rewards  to  those 
who  produce,  to  all  who  produce  by  intellect  or  labor. 
We  would  do  away  with  those  who  live  on  the  producers 
— the  leeches  who  suck  the  life-blood.  Work,  intel 
lectual  or  physical,  should  be  the  law  of  society." 

"They  would  not  work,"  I  insisted. 

"Why  do  you  go  on  drivelling  that  like  a  morning 
paper.  Why  would  they  not  work!  Man  is  the  most 
industrious  animal  on  earth.  Look  at  these  vast  piles 
of  useless  buildings,  look  at  the  great  edifices  and  works 
of  antiquity.  Work  is  the  law  of  his  awakened  intel 
lect.  There  would  still  be  ambition,  emulation,  a 
higher  and  nobler  ambition  for  something  better  than 
the  base  reward  they  strive  and  rob  and  trample  each 
other  in  the  mire  for  now.  Men  would  then  work  for 
art,  the  old  mechanic-arts  would  revive  in  greater 
beauty  and  perfection  than  ever  before.  New  and 
loftier  ideals  would  be  set  up.  There  would  be  more, 
vastly  more  men  who  would  have  those  ideals.  What 
does  the  worker  now  know  of  ideals  ?  He  is  reduced  to 
a  machine,  and  a  very  poor  machine  at  that.  He  does 
not  know  where  his  work  goes,  or  have  an  interest  in  it. 
Give  him  that.  Give  his  fellows  that.  It  will  uplift 
him,  uplift  his  class,  create  a  great  reservoir  from  which 
to  draw  a  better  class.  The  trouble  with  you,  my  dear 
friend,"  said  Wolffert,  "is  that  you  are  assuming  all  the 
time  that  your  law  is  a  fixed  law,  your  condition  of  so 
ciety  a  fixed  condition.  They  are  not:  There  are  few 

535 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

things  fixed  in  the  world.  The  universal  law  is  change 
— growth  or  decay.  Of  all  the  constellations  and 
stars,  the  Pole  star  alone  is  fixed,  and  that  simply  ap 
pears  so.  It  really  moves  like  the  rest,  only  in  a  vaster 
orbit  with  other  stars  moving  about  it." 

I  smiled,  partly  at  his  grandiose  imagery  and  partly 
at  his  earnestness. 

"You  smile,  but  it  is  true.  There  are  few  funda 
mental  laws.  The  survival  of  the  fittest  is  one  of  them 
in  its  larger  sense.  It  is  that  under  which  my  people 
have  survived." 

"And  that  all  men  are  by  nature  entitled  to  life, 
liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness." 

"Not  at  all,  or,  at  least,  only  in  the  larger  sense.  If 
they  were  entitled  to  life,  neither  nature  nor  the  law 
would  deprive  them  of  it— if  to  liberty,  neither  could 
interfere  with  it — if  to  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  we 
should  have  to  reconstruct  their  minds." 

"Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  what  are  they  entitled  to  ?" 
I  exclaimed. 

"First,  under  certain  conditions,  to  the  best  fruits  of 
properly  organized  society;  to  light — enlightenment — 
then  to  opportunity  to  have  an  equal  chance  for  what 
they  are  willing  to  work  for." 

"Among  other  things,  to  work?"  I  hazarded,  feeling 
that  he  had  delivered  himself  into  my  hands.  "Every 
man  has  a  right  to  labor  at  whatever  work  and  for  what 
ever  prices  he  pleases,"  I  said;  "that  you  will  admit  is 
fundamental  ?  " 

"Provided  you  allow  me  to  define  what  you  mean — 
536 


WOLFFERT'S  PHILOSOPHY 

provided  it  does  not  injure  his  neighbor.    You,  as  a 
lawyer,  quote  your  Sic  uiere  tuo  ut  non" 

"If  the  laborer  and  his  employer  contract,  no  one 
else  has  a  right  to  interfere." 

"Not  the  public — if  they  are  injured  by  it?" 

"Except  by  law." 

"Who  make  the  laws?  The  people  in  theory  now, 
and  some  day  they  will  do  it  in  fact.  As  the  spirit  of 
the  time  changes,  the  interpretation  of  the  law  will 
change,  and  the  spirit  is  changing  all  the  time." 

"Not  in  this  particular." 

"Yes,  in  all  respects.  Men  are  becoming  more  en 
lightened.  The  veil  has  been  torn  away  and  the  light 
has  been  let  in.  As  soon  as  education  came  the  step 
was  taken.  We  are  in  a  new  era  already,  and  the  truth 
is,  you  and  your  like  do  not  see  it." 

"  What  sort  of  era  ?    How  is  it  new  ?  " 

"An  era  of  enlightenment.  Men  have  been  informed ; 
they  know  their  power;  'the  tree  of  knowledge  has 
been  plucked.' ' 

"They  don't  appear  to  do  much  with  the  knowledge." 

"You  think  not?  It  is  true  that  they  have  not  yet 
learned  to  apply  the  knowledge  fully,  but  they  are 
learning.  See  how  Democracy  has  ripened  over  the 
earth,  overthrowing  tyranny  and  opening  the  door  of 
opportunity  for  all  mankind — how  the  principles  of 
Socialism  have  spread  within  the  last  generation,  in 
Germany,  in  England,  now  in  America  and  Russia. 
Why,  it  is  now  an  active,  practical  force." 

"Oh!  not  much,"  I  insisted. 
537 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"A  great  deal,  taking  into  account  the  opposition  to 
it.  It  is  contrary,  remember,  to  the  established  usage 
and  belief  of  thousands  of  years.  It  proposes  to  sup 
plant  what  you  have  been  trained  to  consider  the 
foundation  of  your  life,  of  society,  of  order,  and  you  have 
been  trained  to  believe  that  your  most  precious  rights 
are  bound  up  with  that  system.  Every  force  of  modern 
life  is  arrayed  against  it,  yet  it  advances  steadily;  be 
cause,  under  your  system,  lies  the  fundamental  error 
and  sin  which  enables  one  man  to  hold  another  down 
and  live  off  of  him.  You  do  not  see  that  a  new  era  is 
dawning,  that  man  is  developing,  society  passing  into  a 
new  phase.  Democracy  has  come  to  stay;  because 
it  is  informed.  More  and  more  men  are  thinking,  more 
and  more  men  are  learning  to  think." 

''But  they  will  not  be  able  to  upset  the  established 
order." 

"There  is  no  established  order.  It  is  always  upset  in 
time,  either  for  good  or  ill.  It  never  abides,  for  change 
is  the  law." 

"  Generally  for  ill.     Content  is  lost." 

"Generally  for  good,"  flashed  Wolffert.  "The  con 
tent  you  speak  of  is  slavery — stagnation  and  death. 
When  a  man  ceases  to  move,  to  change  consciously, 
he  changes  most,  he  dies.  That  is  the  law  that  for 
the  universal  good  underlies  all  growth.  You  cannot 
alter  it." 

He  ceased  speaking  and  I  took  my  leave,  feeling  that 
somehow  he  had  grown  away  from  me. 


538 


XXXIX 

THE  CONFLICT 

Wolffert's  book  was  never  finished.  When  he  got 
well,  it  was  laid  aside  for  more  imperative  work.  The 
misery  in  the  city  had  increased  till  it  threatened  the 
overthrow  of  everything.  It  was  necessary  to  do  his 
part  to  ameliorate  the  wretchedness;  for  his  word  was 
a  charm  in  the  foreign  district  where  disturbance  was 
most  to  be  feared.  He  was  the  most  talked  of  man  in 
the  city.  He  worked  night  and  day. 

For  a  little  time  it  looked  as  though  the  efforts  of  the 
peace-makers,  among  whom  were  conspicuous  in  the 
poor  section  of  the  town  John  Marvel  and  Wolffert,  to 
bring  about  a  better  feeling  and  condition  were  going 
to  be  successful.  The  men  began  to  return  to  work. 
The  cars  were  once  more  being  operated,  though  under 
heavy  police  protection,  Collis  McSheen  having  had 
it  made  clear  to  him  by  his  former  friends  like  Canter 
and  others  that  he  must  act  or  take  the  consequences. 

One  evening  not  long  afterward,  under  prompting  of 
an  impulse  to  go  and  see  how  my  poor  woman  and  little 
Janet  were  coming  on,  and  possibly  not  without  some 
thought  of  Eleanor  Leigh,  who  had  hallowed  her  door 
step  the  last  time  I  was  there,  I  walked  over  to  that  part 
of  the  town.  I  took  Dix  along,  or  he  took  himself,  for 

539 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

he  was  my  inseparable  companion  these  days.  Eleanor 
Leigh  had  been  there,  but  she  had  gone  to  the  old  Drum 
mer's  to  see  Elsa,  who  was  ill,  and  had  taken  Janet  with 
her.  The  mother  said  the  child  was  afraid  to  go  out  on 
the  street  now,  and  Miss  Eleanor  thought  it  would  do 
her  good.  The  poor  woman's  pitiful  face  haunted  me 
as  I  turned  down  the  street.  Though  the  men  were 
returning  to  work,  the  effect  of  the  strike  was  still  ap 
parent  all  through  this  section  of  the  town.  The  streets 
were  full  of  idlers,  especially  about  the  bar-rooms;  and 
their  surly  looks  and  glum  air  testified  to  the  general 
feeling. 

Of  all  the  gatherings  of  men  that  I  have  ever  seen  the 
most  painful  is  that  of  men  on  a  strike.  They  are  a 
forlorn  hope.  In  most  assemblies  there  is  enthusiasm, 
spirit,  resolve:  something  that  beams  forth  with  hope 
and  sustains.  Most  of  these  exist  in  striking  men;  yet 
Hope  is  absent.  In  other  assemblages  her  radiant 
wings  light  up  their  faces;  in  strikes,  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  sombre  shadow  of  care  is  always  present.  In  this 
strike  Wolffert  had  been  one  of  the  most  interested 
observers.  While  he  thought  it  unwise  to  strike,  he 
advocated  the  men's  right  to  strike  and  to  picket,  but 
not  to  employ  violence.  It  was  passive  resistance  that 
he  preached,  and  he  deplored  the  death  of  McNeil  as 
much  as  I  did,  or  John  Marvel.  Only  he  charged  it 
to  McSheen  and  Wringman  and  even  more  to  the 
hypocrisy  of  a  society  which  tolerated  their  operations. 

This  strike  had  succeeded  to  the  extent  of  causing 
great  loss  to  and,  rumor  said,  of  financially  embarrass- 

540 


THE  CONFLICT 

ing  Mr.  Leigh;  but  had  failed  so  far  as  the  men  were 
concerned,  and  it  was  known  that  it  had  failed.  Its 
only  fruit  for  the  working  people  was  misery.  The 
only  persons  who  had  profited  by  it  were  men  like  Mc- 
Sheen  and  Wringman. 

I  held  strong  opinions  about  the  rights  of  men  in  the 
abstract;  under  the  influence  of  John  Marvel's  and 
Wolff  ert's  unselfish  lives,  and  the  yet  more  potent 
influence  of  Eleanor  Leigh,  I  had  come  to  realize  the 
beauty  of  self-sacrifice,  even  if  I  had  not  yet  risen  to  the 
loftiness  of  its  practice;  but  the  difficulties  which  I  saw 
in  the  application  of  our  theories  and  my  experience  that 
night  at  the  meeting,  followed  by  the  death  of  McNeil, 
had  divided  me  from  my  old  associates  like  Wolffert. 
I  could  not  but  see  that  out  of  the  movements  instituted, 
as  Wolffert  believed,  for  the  general  good  of  the  working 
classes,  the  real  workingmen  were  become  mere  tools, 
and  those  who  were  glib  of  tongue,  forward  in  speech, 
and  selfish  and  shrewd  in  method,  like  McSheen  and 
Wringman,  used  them  and  profited  by  them  remorse 
lessly,  while  the  rest  of  the  community  were  ground 
between  the  upper  and  the  nether  millstones.  Even 
Wolffert,  with  his  pure  motives,  had  proved  but  an 
instrument  in  their  hands  to  further  their  designs. 
Their  influence  was  still  at  work,  and  under  orders  from 
these  battening  politicians  many  poor  men  with  families 
still  stood  idle,  with  aims  often  as  unselfish  and  as  lofty 
as  ever  actuated  patriots  or  martyrs,  enduring  hardship 
and  privation  with  the  truest  and  most  heroic  courage; 
whilst  their  leaders,  like  Wringman,  who  had  been  idle 

541 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

agitators  during  the  time  of  prosperity,  now  rose  on  the 
crest  of  the  commotion  they  had  created,  and  blos 
somed  into  importance.  The  Nile  courses  through 
upper  Egypt  bearing  its  flood  to  enrich  the  lower  lands; 
but  the  desert  creeps  and  hangs  its  parched  lips  over 
the  very  brink. 

I  determined  to  go  and  inquire  after  Elsa  myself.  So, 
with  Dix  at  my  heel,  I  passed  through  the  foreign  streets, 
crowded  with  the  same  dark-hued  elements  I  had  ob 
served  before,  only  now  lowering  and  threatening  as 
a  cloud  about  to  break,  and  walked  over  toward  the 
little  street  in  which  the  Loewens  lived,  and  presently  I 
fell  in  with  Wolffert,  who,  like  myself,  appeared  to  have 
business  in  that  direction.  Under  the  circumstances, 
I  should  have  been  glad  to  escape  from  him;  but  as  he 
joined  me  I  could  not  well  do  so,  and  we  walked  along 
together.  He  looked  worn  and  appeared  to  be  rather 
gloomy,  which  I  set  down  to  his  disappointment  at  the 
turn  affairs  connected  with  the  strike  had  taken,  for  I 
learned  from  him  that,  under  the  influence  of  Wringman, 
there  was  danger  of  a  renewal  of  hostilities;  that  his 
efforts  at  mediation  had  failed,  and  he  had  at  a  meeting 
which  he  had  attended,  where  he  had  advocated  con 
ciliatory  measures,  been  hooted  down.  There  was 
danger,  he  said,  of  the  whole  trouble  breaking  out  again, 
and  if  so,  the  sympathy  of  the  public  would  now  be  on 
the  other  side.  Thinking  more  of  the  girl  I  was  in  pur 
suit  of  than  of  anything  else,  and  having  in  mind  the 
announcement  of  Mr.  Leigh's  losses  and  reported  em 
barrassment,  I  expressed  myself  hotly.  If  they  struck 

542 


THE  CONFLICT 

again  they  deserved  all  they  got — they  deserved  to  fail 
for  following  such  leaders  as  Wringman  and  refusing 
to  listen  to  their  friends. 

"Oh,  no,  they  are  just  ignorant,  that  is  all — they 
don't  know.  Give  them  time — give  them  time." 

"Well,  I  am  tired  of  it  all." 

"Tired!  Oh!  don't  get  tired.  That's  not  the 
way  to  work.  Stand  fast.  Go  and  see  John  Marvel 
and  get  new  inspiration  from  him.  See  how  he 
works." 

"  Wolff ert,  I  am  in  love,"  I  said,  suddenly.  He 
smiled — as  I  remembered  afterward,  sadly. 

"Yes,  you  are."  There  was  that  in  his  tone  which 
rather  miffed  me.  I  thought  he  was  in  love,  too;  but 
not,  like  myself,  desperately. 

"You  are  not — and  you  don't  know  what  it  is.  So, 
it  is  easy  for  you." 

He  turned  on  me  almost  savagely,  with  a  flame  in  his 
eyes. 

"Not—!  I  not!  You  don't  dream  what  it  is  to  be 
in  love.  You  cannot.  You  are  incapable — incapable!" 
He  clutched  at  his  heart.  The  whole  truth  swept  over 
me  like  a  flood. 

"Wolffert!  Why—?  Why  have  you  never—?"  I 
could  not  go  on.  But  he  understood  me. 

"Because  I  am  a  Jew!"  His  eyes  burned  with  deep 
fires. 

"A  Jew!  Well,  suppose  you  are.  She  is  not  one  to 
allow  that " 

He  wheeled  on  me. 

543 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Do  you  think — ?  Do  you  imagine  I  mean — ?  I 
would  not  allow  myself — I  could  never — never  allow 
myself —  It  is  impossible — for  me." 

I  gazed  on  him  with  amazement.  He  was  trans 
formed.  The  pride  of  race,  the  agony  and  subdued 
fury  of  centuries,  flamed  in  him.  I  saw  for  the  first 
time  the  spirit  of  the  chosen  people:  Israel  in  bondage, 
yet  arisen,  with  power  to  call  down  thunders  from 
Heaven.  I  stood  abashed — abashed  at  my  selfish 
blindness  through  all  my  association  with  him.  How 
often  I  had  heedlessly  driven  the  iron  into  his  soul. 
With  my  arm  over  his  shoulder  I  stammered  something 
of  my  remorse,  and  he  suddenly  seized  my  hand  and 
wrung  it  in  speechless  friendship. 

As  we  turned  into  a  street  not  far  from  the  Loewens', 
we  found  ahead  of  us  quite  a  gathering,  and  it  was  in 
creasing  momentarily.  Blue-coated  police,  grim-look 
ing  or  anxious,  were  standing  about  in  squads,  and  sur 
lier-looking  men  were  assembling  at  the  corners.  It 
was  a  strike.  I  was  surprised.  I  even  doubted  if  it 
could  be  that.  But  my  doubt  was  soon  dispelled.  At 
that  moment  a  car  came  around  a  corner  a  few  blocks 
away  and  turned  into  the  street  toward  us.  There  was 
a  movement  in  a  group  near  me;  a  shout  went  up  from 
one  of  them  and  in  a  second  the  street  was  pandemo 
nium.  That  dark  throng  through  which  we  had  passed 
poured  in  like  a  torrent.  A  bomb  exploded  a  half 
block  away,  throwing  up  dirt  and  stones. 

With  a  cry,  "God  of  Israel!"  Wolffert  sprang  for 
ward;  but  I  lost  him  in  the  throng.  I  found  myself 

544 


THE  CONFLICT 

borne  toward  the  car  like  a  chip  on  a  fierce  flood.  The 
next  instant  I  was  a  part  of  the  current,  and  was  strug 
gling  like  a  demon.  On  the  platform  were  a  brawny 
driver  and  two  policemen.  The  motorman  I  recog 
nized  as  Otto.  As  I  was  borne  near  the  car,  I  saw  that 
in  it,  among  others,  were  an  old  man,  a  woman,  and  a 
child,  and  as  I  reached  the  car  I  recognized — I  know 
not  how — all  three.  They  were  the  old  Drummer, 
Eleanor  Leigh,  and  the  little  girl,  Janet  McNeil.  I 
thought  I  caught  the  eye  of  the  young  lady,  but  it  may 
have  been  fancy;  for  the  air  was  full  of  missiles,  the 
glass  was  crashing  and  tingling;  the  sound  of  the  mob 
was  deafening.  At  any  rate  I  saw  her  plainly.  She 
had  gathered  up  the  scared  child  in  her  arms,  and  with 
white  face,  but  blazing  eyes,  was  shielding  her  from  the 
flying  stones  and  glass. 

I  was  one  of  the  first  men  on  the  car,  and  made  my 
way  into  it,  throwing  men  right  and  left  as  I  entered  it. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  look  that  came  into  her  eyes  as 
she  saw  me.  She  rose  with  a  cry  and,  stretching  out 
her  hands,  pushed  the  child  into  my  arms  with  a  single 
word:  "Save  her."  It  was  like  an  elixir;  it  gave  me 
ten  times  the  strength  I  had  before.  The  car  was 
blocked,  and  we  descended  from  it — I  in  front  protect 
ing  her — and  fought  our  way  through  the  mob  to  the 
outskirts,  the  old  Drummer,  a  squad  of  policemen,  and 
myself;  I  with  the  child  by  the  hand  to  keep  her  near 
the  ground  and  less  exposed,  and  the  old  Drummer 
shielding  us  both  and  roaring  like  a  lion.  It  was  a 
warm  ten  minutes;  the  air  was  black  with  stones  and 

545 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

missiles.  The  crowd  seemed  to  have  gone  mad  and 
were  like  ravening  wolves.  The  presence  of  a  woman 
and  child  had  no  effect  on  them  but  to  increase  their 
fury.  They  were  mad  with  the  insanity  of  mobbism. 
But  at  last  we  got  through,  though  I  was  torn  and  bleed 
ing.  They  were  after  the  motorman  and  conductor. 
The  latter  had  escaped  into  a  shop  and  the  door  was 
shut;  but  the  mob  was  not  to  be  balked.  Doors  and 
windows  were  smashed  in  like  paper.  The  mob 
poured  in  and  rummaged  everywhere  for  its  victim, 
up-stairs  and  down,  like  terriers  in  a  cellar  after  a  rat. 
Fortunately  for  him,  he  had  escaped  out  the  back  way. 
They  looted  the  shop  and  then  turned  back  to  search 
for  another  victim.  As  we  were  near  old  Loewen's 
house  we  took  the  refugees  there,  and  when  they  were 
in  that  place  of  safety,  I  returned  to  the  scene  of  con 
flict.  I  had  caught  sight  of  several  faces  in  the  crowd 
that  roused  me  beyond  measure,  and  I  went  back 
to  fight.  If  I  had  had  a  pistol  that  day,  I  should  cer 
tainly  have  committed  murder.  I  had  seen  Wringman 
covertly  urging  the  mob  on  and  Pushkin  enjoying  it. 
Just  as  I  stepped  from  the  car  with  the  child,  trying  to 
shield  her  and  Eleanor  Leigh,  and  with  the  old  Drum 
mer  bulky  and  raging  at  my  side,  trying  to  shield  us  all 
and  sputtering  oaths  in  two  languages,  my  eye  reached 
across  the  mob  and  I  had  caught  sight  of  McSheen's 
and  Pushkin's  heads  above  the  crowd  on  the  far  edge 
of  the  mob  where  it  was  safe.  McSheen  wore  his  im 
pervious  mask;  the  other's  face  was  wicked  with  satis 
faction,  and  he  was  laughing.  A  sudden  desire  to  kill 

546 


THE  CONFLICT 

sprang  into  my  heart.  If  I  had  not  had  my  charges  to 
guard,  I  should  have  made  my  way  to  him  then.  I 
came  back  for  him  now. 

When  I  arrived,  the  fight  had  somewhat  changed. 
Shops  were  being  looted,  wagons,  trucks,  and  every  sort 
of  vehicle  were  being  turned  into  the  street  by  drivers 
who  sympathized  with  the  strike,  to  impede  the  resto 
ration  of  order.  The  police,  aroused  at  last  and  in 
deadly  earnest,  had  formed  in  order  and,  under  their 
hammering,  the  mob  was  giving  way.  Only  at  one 
point  they  were  making  a  stand.  It  was  the  corner 
where  Pushkin  had  stood,  and  I  made  toward  it.  As 
I  did  so  the  crowd  opened,  and  a  group  stamped  it 
self  indelibly  in  my  mind.  In  the  front  line  of  the 
mob,  Wolffert,  tall  and  flaming,  hatless,  and  with 
flying  hair,  swinging  arms,  and  wide-open  mouth, 
by  turns  trying  to  pacify  the  wild  mob,  by  turns  cursing 
and  fighting  a  group  of  policemen — who,  with  flying 
clubs  and  drawn  pistols,  were  hammering  them  and 
driving  them  slowly — was  trying  to  make  himself 
heard.  Beyond  these,  away  at  the  far  edge  of  the  mob 
the  face  of  Pushkin,  his  silk  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes. 
As  I  gazed  at  him,  he  became  deadly  pale,  and  then 
turned  as  if  to  get  away;  but  the  crowd  held  him  fast. 
I  was  making  toward  him,  when  a  figure  taller  than  his 
shoved  in  between  us,  pushing  his  way  toward  him.  He 
was  fighting  for  his  life.  His  head  was  bare  and  his  face 
was  bleeding.  His  back  was  to  me;  but  I  recognized 
the  head  and  broad  shoulders  of  Otto.  It  was  this 
sight  that  drove  the  blood  from  Pushkin's  face,  and 

547 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

well  it  might;  for  the  throng  was  being  parted  by  the 
young  Swede  as  water  is  parted  by  a  strong  swimmer. 
There  was  a  pistol  shot,  then  I  saw  the  Swede's  arm 
lifted  with  the  lever  in  his  hand,  and  the  next  second 
Pushkin's  head  went  down.  The  cry  that  went  up  and 
the  surging  of  the  crowd  told  me  what  had  happened, 
but  I  had  no  time  to  act;  for  at  this  moment  I  saw  a 
half-dozen  men  in  the  mob  fall  upon  Wolffert,  who  with 
bleeding  face  was  still  trying  to  hold  them  back,  and  he 
disappeared  in  the  rush.  I  shouted  to  some  officers 
by  me,  "They  are  killing  a  man  there,"  and  together 
we  made  our  way  through  the  crowd  toward  the  spot. 
It  was  as  I  supposed — the  adventurer  was  down.  The 
young  Swede  had  settled  his  account  with  him.  He  was 
unconscious,  but  he  was  still  breathing.  Wolffert,  too, 
was  stretched  on  the  ground,  battered  almost  beyond 
recognition.  John  Marvel,  his  own  face  bruised  and 
bleeding,  was  on  his  knees  beside  him,  supporting  his 
head,  and  the  police  were  beating  the  crowd  back.  As 
I  drew  near,  Wolffert  half  rose.  "Don't  beat  them; 
they  don't  know."  He  sank  back.  The  brawny  young 
Swede,  with  a  pistol  bullet  through  his  clothes,  was 
already  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  making  his  way 
out  through  die  crowd.  Pushkin's  and  Wolff ert's  fall 
and  the  tremendous  rush  made  by  the  police  caused  the 
mob  to  give  way  finally,  and  they  were  driven  from  the 
spot,  leaving  a  half-dozen  hatless  and  drunken  leaders 
in  the  hands  of  the  police. 

Pushkin  was  taken  up  and  was  carried  to  a  hospital, 
and  John  Marvel  lifted  Wolffert  in  his  arms.     Just  as 

548 


THE  CONFLICT 

he  was  lifted,  a  stone  struck  me  on  the  head,  and  I  went 
down  and  knew  no  more. 

When  I  came  to,  I  was  in  a  hospital.  John  Marvel 
was  sitting  beside  me,  his  placid  eyes  looking  down  into 
mine  with  that  mingled  serenity  and  kindness  which 
gave  such  strength  to  others.  I  think  they  helped  me 
to  live  as  they  had  helped  so  many  other  poor  sufferers 
to  die.  I  was  conscious  only  for  a  moment,  and  then 
went  off  into  an  illness  which  lasted  a  long  time,  before 
I  really  knew  anything.  But  I  took  him  with  me  into 
that  misty  border-land  where  I  wandered  so  many 
weeks,  before  returning  to  life,  and  when  I  emerged 
from  it  again,  there  he  sat  as  before,  serene,  confident, 
and  inspiring.  He  wore  a  mourning  band  on  his  sleeve. 

"Where  is  Dix?"  was  the  first  thing  I  asked. 

"He  is  all  right— in  good  hands." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  be  talked  to  much; 
but  when  I  was  strong  enough,  he  told  me  many  things 
that  had  taken  place.  The  strike  was  broken  up.  Its 
end  was  sad  enough,  as  the  end  of  all  strikes  is.  Wolf- 
fert  was  dead — killed  in  the  final  rush  of  the  riot  in 
which  I  was  hurt.  And  so  perished  all  his  high  aims 
and  inefficient,  unselfish  methods.  His  father  had  come 
on  and  taken  his  body  home:  "A  remarkable  old  man," 
said  John.  "He  was  proud  of  Leo,  but  could  not  get 
over  the  loss  of  the  great  merchant  he  would  have  been." 
Pushkin  had  recovered,  and  had  been  discharged  from 
the  hospital,  and  had  just  married  Collis  McSheen's 
daughter.  "She  would  have  him,"  said  John.  Wring- 
man  had  disappeared.  On  the  collapse  of  the  strike, 

549 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

it  had  been  found  that  he  had  sold  out  to  Coll  McSheen 
and  the  Argand  companies,  and  furnished  them  in 
formation.  He  had  now  gone  away,  Marvel  did  not 
know  where.  Langton,  when  I  saw  him  later,  thought 
he  had  been  afraid  to  stay  longer  where  so  many  men 
were  who  had  lost  their  places  through  him. 

"It  is  always  the  way — the  innocent  suffer,  and  the 
guilty  escape,"  I  murmured. 

I  felt  Marvel's  hand  gently  placed  over  my  lips. 

"Inscrutable;  but  it  must  be  right,"  he  said: 

" '  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 
His  wonders  to  perform.'" 

"  I  don't  believe  God  had  anything  to  do  with  it."  I 
was  bitter;  for  I  was  still  thinking  of  Wolff ert  and  Push 
kin  and  McSheen. 

"The  doctors  tell  me  that  a  hundredth  part  of  an 
inch  more,  and  a  friend  of  mine  would  never  have  known 
anything  again,"  said  Marvel,  gravely,  looking  down 
at  me  with  sorrowful,  kind  eyes. 

Under  this  argument  ad  hominem  I  was  silent,  if  not 
convinced.  We  are  always  ready  to  think  Providence 
interferes  in  our  especial  behalf. 

I  started  to  ask  after  another  who  hadjbeen  in  the  riot, 
but  I  could  not  frame  the  question.  I  saw  that  Marvel 
knew  what  I  wished.  I  learned  afterward  that  I  had 
talked  of  her  constantly  during  my  delirium.  She  was 
well,  he  told  me.  She  had  not  been  hurt,  nor  had  the 
child  or  old  Loewen.  She  had  left  the  city.  Her 
father  was  involved  now  in  a  great  lawsuit,  the  object 

550 


THE  CONFLICT 

of  which  Marvel  did  not   know,  and  she  had  gone 
away. 

"Where  has  she  gone?" 

He  did  not  answer,  and  I  took  it  for  granted  that  he 
did  not  know. 

"If  I  had  been  you,  I  would  have  found  out  where 
she  went  to,"  I  said  peevishly. 

He  took  no  notice  of  this.  He  only  smiled.  He  did 
not  say  so;  but  I  thought  from  his  manner  that  she  had 
gone  abroad.  He  had  had  a  note  from  her  saying  that 
she  would  be  away  a  long  time,  and  inclosing  him  a 
generous  contribution  for  his  poor. 

"She  is  an  angel,"  he  said. 

"Of  course  she  is." 

Though  he  spoke  reverently,  I  was  almost  angry  with 
him  for  thinking  it  necessary  to  say  it  at  all. 

"Yes;  but  you  do  not  know  how  good  she  is.  None 
but  God  knows  how  good  some  women  are." 

One  or  two  other  pieces  of  news  he  told  me.  The 
old  Drummer  and  his  wife  had  gone  off,  too;  but  only 
on  a  visit  to  Elsa.  Elsa  and  Otto  had  been  married, 
and  were  living  in  another  State.  I  saw  that  he  still 
had  something  else  to  tell,  and  finally  it  came  out.  As 
soon  as  I  was  able,  I  must  go  away  for  a  while.  I  needed 
change  and  rest,  and  he  knew  the  very  place  for  me, 
away  off  in  the  country. 

"You  appear  to  be  anxious  to  depopulate  the  city," 
I  said.  He  only  smiled  contentedly. 

"  I  am  going  to  send  you  to  the  country,"  he  said  with 
calm  decision. 

551 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"I  have  to  work " 

"When  you  come  back.  I  have  made  all  the  ar 
rangements." 

"I  am  going  to  find  Eleanor  Leigh.  I  will  find  her 
if  the  world  holds  her." 

"Yes,  to  be  sure,"  he  smiled  indulgently.  He  was 
so  strong  that  I  yielded. 

I  learned  that  a  good  offer  was  waiting  for  me  to  go 
into  the  law  office  of  one  of  the  large  firms  when 
I  should  be  well  enough  to  work,  in  a  capacity  which 
Jeams  would  have  termed  that  of  a  "minor  connectee"; 
but  it  was  coupled  with  the  condition  that  I  should 
get  well  first.  My  speech  at  the  meeting  when  I 
denounced  Wringman,  and  my  part  in  the  riots,  had 
become  known,  and  friends  had  interested  themselves 
in  my  behalf.  So  John  Marvel  reported;  and  as  he 
appeared  to  be  managing  things,  I  assumed  that  he 
had  done  this,  too. 

I  never  fully  knew  until  after  his  death  how  truly 
Wolffert  was  one  of  the  Prophets.  I  often  think  of  him 
with  his  high  aim  to  better  the  whole  human  race, 
inspired  by  a  passion  for  his  own  people  to  extend  his 
ministration  to  all  mankind,  cast  out  by  those  he  labored 
for;  denying  that  he  was  a  Christian,  and  yet  dying  a 
Christian  death  in  the  act  of  supplicating  for  those  who 
slew  him.  I  owe  him  a  great  debt  for  teaching  me 
many  things,  but  chiefly  for  the  knowledge  that  the 
future  of  the  race  rests  on  the  whole  people  and  its 
process  depends  on  each  one,  however  he  may  love  his 
own,  working  to  the  death  for  all.  He  opened  my  eyes 

552 


THE  CONFLICT 

to  the  fact  that  every  man  who  contributes  to  the 
common  good  of  mankind  is  one  of  the  chosen  people 
and  that  the  fundamental  law  is  to  do  good  to  man 
kind. 

I  discovered  that  John  Marvel  knew  he  was  in  love 
with  Eleanor  Leigh,  though  how  he  knew  it  I  never 
learned.  "He  never  told  her,"  he  said,  "but  died  with 
it  locked  in  his  heart — as  was  best/'  he  added  after  a 
pause,  and  then  he  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  as  he 
did  not  say  anything  from  which  I  could  judge  whether 
he  knew  why  Wolffert  never  told  his  love,  I  did  not 
tell  what  I  knew.  It  may  have  been  the  slowly  fading 
light  which  made  his  face  so  sad.  I  remember  that  a 
long  silence  fell  between  us,  and  it  came  over  me  with 
a  new  force  how  much  more  unselfishly  both  these  men 
had  loved  than  I  and  how  much  nobler  both  had  al 
ways  been — the  living  and  the  dead.  And  I  began 
battling  with  myself  to  say  something  which  I  felt 
I  ought  to  say,  but  had  not  courage  enough. 

Presently,  John  said  very  slowly,  almost  as  if  he  were 
speaking  to  himself,  "I  believe  if  you  keep  on,  she  will 
marry  you,  and  I  believe  you  will  help  each  other — I 
know  she  will  help  you."  His  arm  was  resting  on  the 
table. 

I  leant  over  and  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm. 

"I  once  thought  it  certain  I  should  win  her.  I  am 
far  from  sure  that  I  shall  now.  I  am  not  worthy  of  her — 
but  I  shall  try  to  be.  You  alone,  John,  of  all  the  men  I 
know,  are.  I  cannot  give  her  up — but  it  is  only  honest 
to  tell  you  that  I  have  less  hope  than  I  had." 

553 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

He  turned  to  me  with  a  sad  little  smile  on  his  face 
and  shook  his  head. 

"  I  would  not  give  her  up  if  I  were  you.  You  are  not 
good  enough  for  her,  but  no  one  is,  and  you  will  grow 
better." 

For  the  first  time,  I  almost  thought  him  handsome. 

"You  are,  old  man." 

"Me!  Oh!  no,  I  am  not — I  have  my  work  to  do — 
it  is  useless  to  talk  to  me — you  keep  on." 

He  picked  up  a  paper  and  began  to  read,  and  I  ob 
served  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  taken  off  his  glasses. 
I  made  some  remark  on  it. 

"Yes,  my  sight  is  getting  better — I  can  see  the  stars 
now,"  he  said  smiling. 

"Ah!   John,  you  have  long  seen  the  stars,"  I  said. 

So,  as  soon  as  I  could  travel,  John  Marvel  sent  me 
off — sent  me  to  a  farmhouse  where  he  had  lived  in  his 
first  parish — a  place  far  from  the  railroads;  a  country 
of  woods  and  rolling  fields  and  running  streams;  the 
real  country  where  blossoms  whiten  and  birds  sing  and 
waters  murmur. 

"They  are  the  best  people  in  the  world,"  he  said; 
and  they  were.  They  accepted  me  on  his  word.  "Mr. 
Marvel  had  sent  me,  and  that  was  enough."  His  word 
was  a  talisman  in  all  that  region.  They  did  not  know 
who  the  Queen  of  England  was,  and  were  scarcely  sure 
as  to  the  President  of  the  United  States;  but  they  knew 
John  Marvel.  And  because  I  had  come  from  him  they 
treated  me  like  a  prince.  And  this  was  the  man  I  had 
had  the  folly  to  look  down  on ! 

554 


THE  CONFLICT 

In  that  quiet  place  I  seemed  to  have  reached  content. 
In  that  land  of  peace  the  strife  of  the  city,  the  noise  and 
turmoil  and  horror  of  the  strike,  seemed  but  as  the  rumble 
of  waves  breaking  on  some  far-off  shore.  I  began  to 
quaff  new  life  with  the  first  breath  of  the  balmy  air. 

The  day  after  I  arrived  I  borrowed  the  skiff  that 
belonged  to  my  host  and  paddled  down  the  little  river 
that  skirted  his  place,  with  the  idea  of  fishing  in  a  pool 
he  had  told  me  of. 

The  afternoon  was  so  soft  and  balmy  that  I  forgot  my 
sport  and  simply  drifted  with  the  current  under  the 
overhanging  branches  of  willows  and  sycamores,  when, 
turning  a  bend  in  the  stream,  I  came  on  a  boat  floating 
in  a  placid  pool.  In  it  were  a  young  lady  and  a  little 
girl,  and  who  but  Dix,  his  brindled  head  held  high,  his 
twisted  ears  pointed  straight  up-stream,  and  his  whole 
body  writhing  and  quivering  with  excitement.  It  was 
a  moment  before  I  could  quite  take  it  in,  and  I  felt  for 
a  second  as  if  I  were  dreaming. 

Yet  there  was  Eleanor  Leigh  under  the  willows,  her 
small  white  hand  resting  on  the  side  of  the  boat,  her 
face  lovelier  than  ever,  and  her  voice  making  music  in 
my  ears  with  those  low,  sincere  tones  that  I  had  never 
forgotten,  and  which  made  it  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
world.  I  must  have  carried  my  soul  in  my  eyes  that 
moment;  for  the  color  sprang  to  her  cheeks  and  I  saw 
a  look  in  hers  I  had  never  seen  there  before. 

"Well,  this  is  Fate,"  I  said,  as  the  current  bore  my 
boat  against  hers  and  it  lay  locked  against  it  in  that 
limpid  pool. 

555 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Would  Mr.  Marvel  have  called  it  so?"  she  asked, 
her  eyes  resting  upon  me  with  a  softer  look  in  them  than 
they  had  ever  given  me. 

"No,  he  would  have  said  Providence." 

I  am  sure  it  was  on  that  stream  that  Halcyone  found 
retreat.  In  that  sweet  air,  freed  from  any  anxieties 
except  to  please  her  whose  pleasure  had  become  the 
sun  of  my  life,  I  drank  in  health  day  by  day  and  hour 
by  hour.  My  farmhouse  was  only  a  half-mile  or  so 
across  the  fields  to  the  home  of  Eleanor  Leigh's  old 
cousins  with  whom  she  was  staying,  and  only  the 
sidereal  travellers  followed  that  path  so  regularly  as  I. 
It  was  the  same  place  where  she  had  first  met  John 
Marvel — and  Wolff ert.  She  was  even  interested  in 
my  law,  and  actually  listened  with  intelligence  to  the 
succulent  details  of  Livery  of  Seisin,  and  other  ancient 
conveyancing.  Not  that  she  yet  consented  to  marry 
me.  This  was  a  theme  she  had  a  genius  for  evading. 
However,  I  knew  I  should  win  her.  Only  one  thing 
troubled  me.  As  often  as  I  touched  on  my  future 
plans  and  spoke  of  the  happiness  I  should  have  in 
relieving  her  of  the  drudgery  of  a  teacher's  life,  she 
used  to  smile  and  contest  it.  It  was  one  of  the  happi 
nesses  of  her  life,  she  said,  to  teach  that  school.  But 
for  it,  I  would  never  have  "put  out  her  fire  for  her 
that  morning."  Was  ever  such  ingratitude!  Of  course, 
I  would  not  admit  this.  "Fate — no,  Providence 
was  on  my  side."  And  I  took  out  my  violets  and 
showed  them  to  her,  telling  her  their  history.  They 
still  retained  a  faint  fragrance.  And  the  smile  she 

556 


THE  CONFLICT 

gave  was  enough  to  make  them  fresh  again.  But  I, 
too,  was  friendly  to  the  school.  How  could  I  be 
otherwise?  For  she  told  me  one  day  that  the  first 
time  she  liked  me  was  when  I  was  sitting  by  the  cab- 
driver  holding  the  little  dirty  child  in  my  arms,  with 
Dix  between  my  feet.  And  I  had  been  ashamed  to 
be  seen  by  her!  I  only  feared  that  she  might  take 
it  into  her  head  still  to  keep  the  school.  And  I  now 
knew  that  what  she  took  into  her  little  head  to  be  her 
duty  she  would  perform.  "By  the  way,  you  might 
take  lessons  in  making  up  the  fire,"  she  suggested. 

I  received  quite  a  shock  a  few  days  later  when  I  found 
in  my  mail  a  letter  from  the  Miss  Tippses,  telling  me  of 
their  delight  on  learning  of  my  recovery,  and  mention 
ing  incidentally  the  fact,  which  they  felt  sure  I  would  be 
glad  to  know,  that  they  had  settled  all  of  their  affairs  in 
a  manner  entirely  satisfactory  to  them,  as  Mr.  McSheen 
had  very  generously  come  forward  at  a  time  when  it  was 
supposed  that  I  was  fatally  injured  and  had  offered  to 
make  reparation  to  them  and  pay  out  of  his  own  pocket, 
not  only  all  of  the  expenses  which  they  had  incurred 
about  the  matter,  but  had  actually  paid  them  three 
thousand  dollars  over  and  above  these  expenses,  a 
munificent  sum  which  had  enabled  them  to  pay  dear 
Mrs.  Kale  all  they  owed  her.  They  felt  sure  that  I 
would  approve  of  the  settlement,  because  Mr.  McSheen's 
intermediary  had  been  "a  life-long  friend  of  mine  and 
in  some  sort,"  he  said,  "my  former  law  partner,  as  we 
had  lived  for  years  in  adjoining  offices."  They  had 
signed  all  the  papers  he  had  presented  and  were  glad  to 

557 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

know  that  he  was  entirely  satisfied,  and  now  they  hoped 
that  I  would  let  them  know  what  they  owed  me,  in  order 
that  they  might  settle  at  least  that  part  of  their  debt; 
but  for  the  rest,  they  would  always  owe  me  a  debt  of 
undying  gratitude,  and  they  prayed  God  for  my  speedy 
recovery  and  unending  happiness,  and  they  felt  sure 
Mr.  Peck  would  rejoice  also  to  know  that  I  was  doing 
so  well. 

Peck!  And  he  had  charged  them  a  fee  for  his 
services ! 

It  was  now  approaching  the  autumn  and  I  was 
chafing  to  get  back  to  work.  I  knew  now  that  success 
was  before  me.  It  might  be  a  long  road;  but  I  was  on  it. 

John  Marvel,  in  reply  to  an  inquiry,  wrote  that  the 
place  was  still  waiting  for  me  in  the  office  he  had  men 
tioned,  though  he  did  not  state  what  it  was. 

"How  stupid  he  is!"  I  complained.  Eleanor  Leigh 
only  laughed. 

She  "did  not  think  him  stupid  at  all,  and  certainly 
she  did  not  think  I  should  do  so.  In  fact,  she  considered 
him  one  of  the  most  sensible  men  she  ever  knew." 

"Why,  he  could  not  have  done  more  to  keep  me  in 
ignorance,  if  he  had  tried,"  I  fumed.  And  she  only 
laughed  the  more. 

"I  believe  you  are  jealous  of  him."  Her  eyes  were 
dancing  in  an  exasperating  way  they  had.  I  was  con 
sumed  with  jealousy  of  everybody;  but  I  would  never 
admit  it. 

"Jealous  of  John  Marvel!  Nonsense!  But  I  be 
lieve  you  were  in — you  liked  him  very  much?" 

558 


THE  CONFLICT 

"I  did,"  she  nodded  cheerily.  "I  do— more  than 
any  one  I  ever  knew— almost."  And  she  launched  out 
in  a  eulogy  of  John  which  quite  set  me  on  fire. 

"Then  why  did  you  not  marry  him?"  I  was  con 
scious  that  my  head  went  up  and  my  wrath  was  rising. 

"He  never  asked  me."  Her  dancing  eyes  still  play 
ing  hide  and  seek  with  mine. 

"I  supposed  there  was  some  good  reason,"  I  said 
loftily.  She  vouchsafed  no  answer — only  went  on 
making  a  chain  of  daisies,  while  her  dimples  came  and 
went,  and  I  went  on  to  make  a  further  fool  of  myself. 
I  was  soon  haled  up  and  found  myself  in  that  outer 
darkness,  where  the  cheerful  occupation  is  gnashing  of 
teeth.  Like  the  foolish  glass-merchant,  I  had  smashed 
all  my  hopes.  I  walked  home  through  the  Vale  of 
Bitterness. 

That  evening,  after  spending  some  hours  in  trying  to 
devise  a  plan  by  which  I  could  evade  the  humiliation  of 
an  absolute  surrender,  and  get  back  without  crawling  too 
basely,  I  went  over  to  say  what  I  called — good-by.  I 
was  alone;  for  Dix  had  abandoned  me  for  her,  and  I 
did  not  blame  him  even  now.  It  was  just  dusk; 
but  it  seemed  to  me  midnight.  I  had  never  known  the 
fields  so  dark.  As  I  turned  into  a  path  through  the 
orchard  where  I  had  had  so  many  happy  hours,  I  dis 
covered  her  sitting  on  the  ground  beneath  a  tree  with 
Dix  beside  her;  but  as  I  approached  she  rose  and  leant 
against  the  tree,  her  dryad  eyes  resting  on  me  placidly. 
I  walked  up  slowly. 

"Good  evening — "  solemnly. 
559 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

"Good  evening — "  seriously. 

I  was  choosing  amongst  a  half-dozen  choice  sentences 
I  had  framed  as  an  introduction  to  my  parting  speech, 
when  she  said  quietly,  looking  up:  "I  thought  you 
might  not  come  back  this  evening." 

"I  have  come  to  say  good-by." 

"Are  you  going  away?"  Her  voice  expressed  sur 
prise — nothing  more. 

"Yes."     Solemnly. 

"For  how  long?"— without  looking  up. 

"Perhaps,  forever."     Tragically. 

"  You  are  better  at  making  a  fire  than  I  had  supposed. 
Will  you  give  me  Dix?"  This  with  the  flash  of  a 
dimple. 

"I — I — yes — if  you  want  him." 

I  glanced  at  her  face  just  in  time  to  see  the  dimples 
disappear.  "I  am  thinking  of  being  married  next 
week."  My  heart  stopped  beating. 

"You  were— what?" 

"But  of  course,  if  you  are  going  away  I  could  not 
do  it,  could  I?"  Her  eyes  sought  mine,  then  fell. 

"Eleanor!"  I  tried  to  possess  myself  of  her  hand; 
but  she  put  it  behind  her.  I  tried  to  secure  the  other; 
but  that  also  disappeared.  Then  I  took — herself. 
"Eleanor!"  Her  face  next  second  had  grown  grave. 
She  looked  up  suddenly  and  looked  me  full  in  the  eyes. 

"You  are  a  goose.  What  would  you  think  if  I  were 
to  say  I  would  marry  you  right  away?"  She  looked 
down  again  quickly,  and  her  face  was  sweet  with  tender 
ness. 

560 


THE  CONFLICT 

I  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  drawing  in  of  my  breath, 
and  a  feeling  as  if  I  were  rising  into  the  sky,  "rimmed 
by  the  azure  world."  Then  my  brain  began  to  act,  and 
I  seemed  to  have  been  lifted  above  the  darkness.  I  was 
up  in  the  sunlight  again. 

"I  should  think  I  was  in  Heaven,"  I  said  quietly, 
almost  reverently.  "  But  for  God's  sake,  don't  say  that 
to  me  unless  you  mean  it." 

"Well,  I  will.  I  have  written  my  father.  Write  to 
Mr.  Marvel  and  ask  him  to  come  here." 

I  have  never  known  yet  whether  this  last  was  a  piece 
of  humor.  I  only  know  I  telegraphed  John  Marvel, 
and  though  I  rode  all  night  to  do  so,  I  thought  it  was 
broad  daylight. 

In  the  ripe  autumn  John  Marvel,  standing  before  us 
in  his  white  surplice  in  the  little  chapel  among  the  oaks 
and  elms  which  had  been  his  first  church,  performed 
the  ceremony  that  gave  me  the  first  prize  I  had  really 
striven  for — the  greatest  any  man  on  earth  could  have 
won. 

Still,  as  often  as  I  spoke  of  my  future  plans,  there  was 
some  secret  between  them:  a  shadowy  suggestion  of 
some  mystery  in  which  they  both  participated.  And, 
but  that  I  knew  John  Marvel  too  well,  I  might  have 
been  impatient.  But  I  knew  him  now  for  the  first  time 
as  she  had  known  him  long. 

On  our  arrival  in  the  city,  after  I  had  given  the  driver 
an  order  where  to  go,  she  gave  another,  and  when  the 
carriage  drew  up,  it  was  not  at  my  hotel,  but  at  the  door 
of  the  sunny  house  on  the  corner  where  I  had  first  seen 

561 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

Eleanor  Leigh  come  tripping  down  the  steps  with  her 
parcels  for  the  poor  little  crippled  child  and  her  violets 
for  the  Miss  Tippses.  Springing  out  before  me,  with 
her  face  radiant  with  joy  and  mystery,  she  tripped  up 
the  steps  now  just  as  the  door  was  flung  open  by  a  but 
ler  who  wore  a  comical  expression  of  mingled  pleasure 
and  solemnity,  for  the  butler  was  Jeams,  and  then  hav 
ing  introduced  him  to  me,  she  suddenly  took  the  key 
from  the  lock,  and  handing  it  to  me  with  a  bow  and  a 
low  laugh  of  delight: 

"I  make  you,  sir,  livery  of  seisin." 

This,  then,  was  the  mystery. 

She  still  lived  in  the  house  on  the  corner — throngh 
the  aid  offered  by  my  namesake  and  kinsman  her  father 
had  been  enabled  to  retain  it,  and  had  given  it  to  her 
as  a  wedding  present. 

So  after  long  striving  by  ways  that  I  knew  not,  and 
by  paths  that  I  had  not  tried,  my  fancy  was  realized. 

I  now  dwell  in  the  house  on  the  corner  that  I  picked 
so  long  ago  for  its  sunshine. 

It  is  even  sunnier  than  I  thought  it.  For  I  have 
found  that  sunlight  and  sweetness  are  not  from  without, 
but  from  within,  and  in  that  home  is  the  radiance  I 
caught  that  happy  morning  when  I  first  saw  Eleanor 
Leigh  come  tripping  down  the  steps,  like  April,  shed 
ding  sunshine  and  violets  in  her  path. 


562 


XL 

THE  CURTAIN 

In  closing  a  novel,  the  old  novelists  used  to  tell  their 
readers,  who  had  followed  them  long  enough  to  become 
their  friends,  what  in  the  sequel  became  of  all  the  prin 
cipal  characters;  and  this  custom  I  feel  inclined  to 
follow,  because  it  appears  to  me  to  show  that  the  story 
is  in  some  sort  the  reflection  of  life  as  it  is  and  not  as 
novelist  or  reader  would  make  it.  Fate  may  follow  all 
men,  but  not  in  the  form  in  which  every  reader  would 
have  it  fall. 

It  might  have  satisfied  one's  ideas  of  justice  if  I  could 
have  told  how  Collis  McSheen  reaped  in  prison  the  re 
ward  of  his  long  hidden  crimes,  and  the  adventurer, 
Pushkin,  unmasked  and  degraded,  was  driven  out  from 
among  the  wealthy,  whom  he  so  sedulously  cultivated; 
but  this  would  not  have  been  true  to  the  facts.  Collis 
McSheen  moved  into  the  great  house  which  he  had 
bought  with  his  ill-gained  wealth  to  gratify  his  daugh 
ter's  ambition,  and  lived  for  many  years,  to  outward 
seeming,  a  more  or  less  respectable  man;  gave  reason 
ably  where  he  thought  it  would  pay,  from  the  money  of 
which  he  had  robbed  others,  and  doubtless  endeavored 
to  forget  his  past,  as  he  endeavored  to  make  others  for 
get  it;  but  that  past  was  linked  to  him  by  bands  which 

563 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

no  effort  could  ever  break.  And  though  he  secured  the 
adulation  of  those  whom  he  could  buy  with  his  gaudy 
entertainments,  he  could  never  secure  the  recognition 
of  any  worthy  man. 

In  his  desperate  hope  to  become  respectable  he  broke 
with  many  of  his  old  friends  and  with  all  whom  he 
could  escape  from,  but  he  could  not  escape  from  one, 
however  he  strove  to  break  with  him :  himself.  Chained 
to  him  by  a  bond  he  could  not  break  was  the  putres- 
cent  body  of  his  reeking  past.  It  is  the  curse  of  men 
like  him  that  those  he  longs  to  make  his  friends  are  the 
element  who  will  have  none  of  him.  Thus,  like 
Sisyphus,  he  ever  strives  to  roll  the  stone  to  the  hill-top, 
and,  like  Tantalus,  he  ever  strives  to  reach  the  water 
flowing  below  his  lips.  Though  he  had  escaped  the 
legal  punishment  of  his  crimes,  his  punishment  was 
that  he  lived  in  constant  dread  of  the  detection  which 
appeared  ever  to  dog  his  footsteps.  The  last  measure 
in  the  bitter  cup  which  he  had  filled  with  his  own  hand 
came  from  his  daughter,  who  now  called  herself  Count 
ess  Pushkin.  Finding  that,  notwithstanding  her  so- 
called  title  and  large  establishment,  she  was  excluded 
from  that  set  to  which  she  had  been  tolerantly  admitted 
while  she  had  youth  and  gayety  and  the  spirits  of  a 
schoolgirl,  not  to  mention  the  blindness  of  that  age 
to  things  which  experience  sees  clearly  enough,  she 
conceived  the  idea  that  it  was  her  father's  presence  in 
her  home  which  closed  to  her  the  doors  of  those  houses 
where  she  aspired  to  be  intimate.  The  idea,  though 
it  had  long  had  a  lodgment  in  her  mind,  had  been  fos- 

564 


THE  CURTAIN 

tered  by  Pushkin.  Having  to  make  her  choice  between 
her  father  and  her  social  aspirations,  she  decided 
promptly.  The  scene  which  occurred  was  one  which 
neither  Collis  McSheen  nor  his  daughter  could  ever 
forget.  In  the  sequel  McSheen  moved  out  and  took 
quarters  in  a  hotel,  where  he  gradually  sank  into  the 
hopelessness  of  a  lonely  misanthrope,  shorn  of  his  power, 
feared  only  by  those  he  despised,  detested  by  those  he 
admired,  and  haunted  by  the  fear  of  those  he  hated. 

Pushkin  remained  in  some  sort  in  possession  of  the 
field,  but  though  McSheen's  daughter  had  been  able 
to  banish  her  father  from  his  own  home,  she  could  not 
escape  from  her  husband,  whose  vices,  if  apparently 
less  criminal  than  McSheen 's,  were  not  less  black. 
His  capacity  for  spending  money  was  something  she 
had  never  dreamed  of,  and,  like  the  horse-leech's 
daughter,  he  continually  called  for  more,  until  after  a 
furious  scene,  his  wife  awoke  to  her  power,  and  already 
half -beggared,  suddenly  shut  her  purse  as  her  heart  had 
been  long  shut  against  him,  and  bade  him  go.  From 
this  time  her  power  over  him  was  greater  than  it  had 
ever  been  before;  but  unless  rumor  belied  them  des 
perately,  they  lived  a  life  of  cat  and  dog  with  all  that  it 
implied,  until  finally  Pushkin  was  driven  out,  and  after 
hanging  about  for  a  few  years,  died,  as  I  learned,  while 
his  wife  was  off  in  Europe. 

Peck  continued,  to  outward  appearance,  a  prosperous 
lawyer.  His  inveterate  economy  enabled  him  to  pre 
serve  the  appearance  of  prosperity;  but  no  lawyer  of 
standing  ever  spoke  of  him  without  a  shrug  of  theshoul- 

565 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

der  or  a  lift  of  the  eyebrow.  Rumor  dealt  somewhat 
freely  with  his  domestic  affairs,  but  I  never  knew  the 
facts,  and  rumor  is  often  as  great  a  liar  almost  as — I  had 
nearly  said  as  Peck,  but  that  would  be  impossible.  My 
last  personal  experience  of  him  was  in  the  case  of  Mr. 
Leigh's  suit  to  keep  control  of  his  railway.  In  the  final 
suit  involving  the  straightening  out  of  all  matters  con 
nected  with  the  attempt  of  the  Canters  and  their  set  to 
get  control  of  this  property,  I  was  retained  as  junior 
counsel  along  with  my  kinsman,  Mr.  Glave,  and  other 
counsel,  representing  Mr.  Leigh's  and  his  associates' 
interest.  Peck  appeared  in  the  case  as  one  of  the  rep 
resentatives  of  a  small  alleged  interest  held  by  his 
father-in-law,  Mr.  Poole,  which,  as  turned  out  on  the 
final  decision  of  the  cause,  had  no  value  whatever. 
This  having  been  decided,  Peck,  who  was  not  without 
energy,  at  least  where  money  was  concerned,  brought 
forward  a  claim  for  compensation  to  be  allowed  him 
out  of  the  fund,  and  when  this  also  was  decided  against 
him,  he  sought  and  secured  a  conference  with  our  coun 
sel,  at  which  I  was  present.  The  contention  which  he 
set  forth  was  based  upon  an  equitable  claim,  as  he 
termed  it,  to  compensation  for  expenses  and  professional 
services  expended  under  color  of  title,  and  if  the  facts 
he  stated  had  been  so,  he  might  have  been  entitled 
equitably  to  some  allowance.  I  had  satisfied  myself 
that  his  claims  were  without  a  shadow  of  foundation, 
yet  he  had  the  nerve,  when  he  concluded  his  argument, 
or  rather  his  personal  appeal  to  our  counsel,  to  turn  to 
me  for  corroboration  of  his  statement. 

566 


THE  CURTAIN 

"I  admit,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "that  these  facts  rest 
largely  on  my  personal  assurances,  and,  unfortunately, 
I  am  not  known  personally  to  most  of  you,  though  I 
trust  that  my  professional  standing  where  I  am  known 
may  be  accepted  as  a  guarantee  of  my  statements;  but 
happily,  there  is  one  of  you  to  whom  I  can  refer  with 
confidence,  my  old  college  mate  and  valued  friend, 
Henry  Glave.  I  might  almost  term  him  my  former 
partner,  so  closely  were  we  associated  in  the  days  when 
we  were  both  struggling  young  attorneys,  living  in  ad 
joining  offices — I  might,  indeed,  almost  say  the  same 
office.  He,  I  feel  quite  sure,  will  corroborate  every 
statement  I  have  made,  at  least  so  far  as  he  knows  the 
facts,  and  even  where  they  rest  wholly  on  my  declara 
tion,  I  feel  sure  of  his  indorsement,  for  he  knows  that 
I  would  cut  off  my  right  hand  and  have  my  tongue  torn 
from  its  roots,  before  I  would  utter  an  untruth  in  any 
matter  whatsoever;  and  least  of  all,  where  so  paltry  a 
thing  as  money  is  concerned.  I  appeal  to  Henry 
Glave." 

He  sat  down  with  his  eyes  fixed  blandly  on  me.  I 
was  so  taken  aback  that  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  say. 
The  smoothness  of  his  words  and  the  confidence  of  his 
manner  had  evidently  made  an  impression  on  the 
others.  They  had,  indeed,  almost  influenced  me,  but 
suddenly  a  whole  train  of  reflection  swept  through  my 
mind.  Peck's  duplicity  from  his  earliest  appearance 
in  Wolffert's  room  at  college  down  to  the  present,  with 
my  two  old  clients,  the  Miss  Tippses,  at  the  end,  de 
ceived  and  robbed  by  Collis  McSheen,  with  Peck,  as 

567 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

the  facile  instrument,  worming  himself  into  their  con 
fidence  for  what  he  called  so  paltry  a  thing  as  money, 
all  came  clearly  to  my  mind.  I  stood  up  slowly,  for  I 
was  thinking  hard;  but  my  duty  appeared  clear. 

I  regretted,  I  said,  that  Mr.  Peck  had  appealed  to 
me  and  to  my  long  acquaintance  with  him,  for  it  made 
my  position  a  painful  one;  but  as  he  had  cited  me  as  a 
witness,  I  felt  that  my  duty  was  plain,  and  this  was  to 
state  the  facts.  In  my  judgment,  Mr.  Peck  was  not 
entitled  to  any  compensation  whatever,  as  the  evidence, 
so  far  as  it  existed  outside  of  Mr.  Peck's  statements, 
was  contrary  to  his  contention,  and  so  far  as  it  rested 
on  his  personal  testimony,  I  considered  it  as  nothing, 
for  I  would  not  believe  one  word  he  said  where  his  per 
sonal  interest  was  concerned. 

"And  now,"  I  added,  "if  Mr.  Peck  wishes  me  to  give 
the  grounds  on  which  this  opinion  of  mine  is  based, 
either  orally  or  in  writing,  I  will  do  so." 

I  paused,  with  my  gaze  fastened  on  him,  and,  with 
a  sudden  settling  in  their  seats,  the  other  counsel  also 
turned  their  eyes  on  him.  His  face  had  suddenly 
blanched,  but  beyond  this  his  expression  did  not 
change.  He  sat  for  a  few  seconds  rather  limply,  and 
then  slowly  rose. 

"I  am  astonished,"  he  began  slowly,  and  his  voice 
faltered.  "I  am  surprised,  gentlemen,  that  Mr.  Glave 
should  think  such  things  of  me."  He  took  out  his 
watch,  fumblingly,  and  glanced  at  it.  It  was  the  same 
watch  he  had  got  of  me.  "I  see  I  must  ask  you  to  ex 
cuse  me.  I  must  catch  my  train,"  he  stammered. 

568 


THE  CURTAIN 

"  Good  morning,"  and  he  put  on  his  hat  and  slunk  out 
of  the  door. 

As  the  door  closed  every  one  drew  a  long  breath  and 
nettled  in  his  seat,  and  nearly  every  one  said,  "Well." 

My  kinsman,  whose  eyes  had  been  resting  on  me 
with  a  somewhat  unwonted  twinkle  in  them,  reached 
across  the  board  and  extended  his  large  hand. 

"Well,  young  man,  you  and  I  had  a  misunderstand 
ing  a  few  years  ago,  but  I  hope  you  bear  me  no  grudge 
for  it  now.  I  should  like  to  be  friends  with  you.  If 
you  had  needed  it,  you  would  have  squared  all  accounts 
to-day.  I  know  that  man.  He  is  the  greatest  liar  on 
earth.  He  has  lost  the  power  to  tell  the  truth." 

It  may  well  be  believed  that  I  had  gripped  his  hand 
when  he  first  held  it  out,  and  the  grip  was  one  of  a 
friendship  that  has  lasted. 

I  had  expected  to  hear  from  Peck,  but  no  word  came 
from  him,  and  the  last  I  ever  heard  of  him  was  that  he 
and  McSheen  had  had  a  quarrel,  in  which  McSheen 
had  kicked  him  out  of  his  office.  A  suit  appeared  on 
the  docket  against  McSheen,  in  which  Peck  was  the 
plaintiff,  but  no  declaration  was  ever  filed,  and  the  case 
was  finally  dropped  from  the  docket. 

Jeams  failed  to  hold  long  the  position  of  butler  in  our 
modest  household,  for  though  my  wife  put  up — on  my 
account,  as  I  believe — with  Jeams's  occasionally  marked 
unsteadiness  of  gait  or  mushiness  of  utterance,  she 
finally  broke  with  him  on  discovering  that  Dix  showed 
unmistakable  signs  of  a  recent  conflict,  in  which  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  worsted  had  possibly  something 

569 


vf 

JOH,N  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

to  do  with  Jeams 's  discharge,  for  Dix  was  the  idol  of  her 
heart,  and  it  came  to  her  ears  that  Jeams  had  taken 
Dix  out  one  night  and  matched  him  against  the  cham 
pion  of  the  town.  But  though  Jeams  lost  the  post  of 
butler,  he  simply  reverted  to  his  old  position  of  factotum 
and  general  utility  man  about  my  premises  His  mar 
riage  to  a  very  decent  woman,  though,  according  to 
rumor,  with  a  termagant's  tongue,  helped  to  keep  him 
reasonably  straight,  though  not  uniformly  so;  for  one 
afternoon  my  wife  and  I  came  across  him  when  he 
showed  that  degree  of  delightful  pomposity  which  was 
the  unmistakable  sign  of  his  being  "half-shot." 

"Jeams,"  I  said,  when  I  had  cut  short  his  grandilo 
quence,  "  what  will  Eliza  say  to  you  when  she  finds  you 
this  way  again?" 

Jeams  straightened  himself  and  assumed  his  most 
dignified  air.  "My  wife,  sir,  knows  better  than  to 
take  me  to  task.  She  recognizes  me,  sir,  as  a  gentle 
man." 

"She  does  ?    You  wait  and  see  when  you  get  home." 

Jeams's  manner  suddenly  changed.  He  sank  back 
into  his  half-drivelling  self.  "Oh,  she  ain't  gwine  to 
say  nothin'  to  me,  Marse  Hen.  She  ain't  gwine  to  say 
no  more  than  Miss  Nelly  there  says  to  you  when  you 
gets  this  way.  What  does  she  say  to  you  ?" 

"She  doesn't  say  anything  to  me.  She  has  no  oc 
casion  to  do  so." 

Jeams  twisted  his  head  to  one  side  and  burst  into  a 
drunken  laugh.  "Oh!  Yes,  she  do.  I've  done  heard 
her.  Eliza,  she  regalates  me,  and  Miss  Nelly,  she 

570 


THE  CURTAIN 

regalates  you,  an*  I  reckon  we  both  knows  it,  and  we 
better  know  it,  too." 

And  this  was  the  fact.  As  usual,  Jeams  had  struck 
the  mark. 

As  for  John  Marvel,  he  remained  the  same  old  John — 
plodding,  quiet,  persistent,  patient,  zealous,  cheery  and 
self-sacrificing,  working  among  the  poor  with  an  un 
faltering  trust  in  human  nature  which  no  shocks  could 
shake,  because  deep  down  in  the  untroubled  depths  of 
his  soul  lay  an  unfaltering  trust  in  the  Divine  Goodness 
and  wisdom  of  God.  He  had  been  called  to  a  larger 
and  quite  important  church,  but  after  a  few  days  of 
consideration  he,  against  the  earnest  wishes  and  advice 
of  his  friends,  myself  among  them,  declined  the  call. 
He  assigned  among  other  reasons  the  fact  that  he  was 
expected  to  work  to  pay  off  the  debt  for  which  the 
church  was  somewhat  noted,  and  he  knew  nothing 
about  business,  his  duty  was  to  preach  the  gospel,  but 
when  friends  made  it  plain  that  the  debt  would  be 
taken  care  of  if  he  became  the  rector,  he  still  shook  his 
head.  His  work  was  among  the  poor  and  he  could  not 
leave  them. 

My  wife  and  I  went  out  to  his  church  the  Sunday 
evening  following  his  decision,  and  as  we  strolled  along 
through  the  well-known  squalid  streets,  I  could  not  help 
expressing  my  disappointment  that  after  all  our  work 
he  should  have  rejected  the  offer. 

"He  is  really  the  most  unpractical  man  on  earth,"  I 
fumed.  "Here  we  have  gotten  him  a  good  call  to  a 
church  that  many  a  man  would  jump  at,  and  when  he 

571 


JOHN  MARVEL,  ASSISTANT 

finds  a  difficulty  in  the  way,  we  work  until  we  have 
removed  it  and  yet  he  rejects  it.  He  will  remain  an 
assistant  to  the  end  of  his  days."  My  wife  made  no 
reply,  a  sure  sign  that  she  did  not  agree  with  me,  but  did 
not  care  to  discuss  the  matter.  It  is  her  most  effective 
method  of  refuting  me. 

When  we  arrived  we  found  the  little  church  packed 
to  suffocation  and  men  on  the  outside  leaning  in  at  the 
windows.  Among  them  I  recognized  the  tall  form  of 
my  old  Drummer.  As  we  joined  the  group,  John 
Marvel's  voice,  clear  and  strong,  came  floating  out 
through  the  open  windows. 

He  was  giving  out  a  hymn. 

"One  sweetly  solemn  thought 
Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er: 
I  am  nearer  home  to-day 
Than  I  ever  have  been  before." 

The  whole  congregation  joined  in,  those  without  the 
church  as  well  as  those  who  were  within. 

As  I  heard  the  deep  bass  of  the  old  Drummer,  rolling 
in  a  low,  solemn  undertone,  a  sudden  shifting  of  the 
scene  came  to  me.  I  was  in  a  great  auditorium  filled 
with  light,  and  packed  with  humanity  rising  tier  on 
tier  and  stretching  far  back  till  lost  in  the  maze  of  dis 
tances.  A  grand  orchestra,  banked  before  me,  with 
swaying  arms  and  earnest  faces,  played  a  wonderful 
harmony  which  rolled  about  me  like  the  sea  and 
whelmed  me  with  its  volume  till  I  was  almost  swept 
away  by  the  tide,  then  suddenly  down  under  its  sweep  I 

572 


THE  CURTAIN 

found  the  low  deep  roll  of  the  bass  drum.  No  one  ap 
peared  to  mark  it  or  paid  any  heed  to  him.  Nor  did  the 
big  Drummer  pay  any  heed  to  the  audience.  All  he 
minded  was  the  harmony  and  his  drum.  But  I  knew 
that,  unmarked  and  unheeded,  it  set  athrob  the  pulsing 
air  and  stirred  the  billows  through  which  all  that  divine 
music  reached  and  held  the  soul. 

As  we  walked  home  that  night  after  pressing  our  way 
into  the  throng  of  poor  people  to  wring  John  Marvel's 
hand,  I  said  to  my  wife  after  a  struggle  with  myself  to 
say  it: 

"I  think  I  was  wrong  about  John,  and  you  were 
right.  He  did  right.  He  is  well  named  the  Assistant." 

My  wife  said  simply:  "I  feel  that  I  owe  him  more 
than  I  can  say."  She  slipped  her  hand  in  my  arm,  and 
a  warm  feeling  for  all  mankind  surged  about  my  heart. 


572 


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IN  OLE  VIRGINIA.     \Cameo  Edition.'}     With  an  etch 
ing  by  W.  L.  SHEPPARD.     i6mo,  $1.25. 

MARSE  CHAN.     A  Tale  of  Old  Virginia.     Illustrated. 
Small  folio,  $1.00. 

MEH  LADY.     A  Story  of  the  War.      Illustrated.     Small 
folio,  $1.00. 

POLLY.     A  Christmas  Recollection.     Illustrated.     Small 
folio,  $1.00. 

UNC'  EDINBURG.      A    Plantation    Echo.      Illustrated. 
Small  folio,  $1.00. 

"  BEFO'  THE  WAR."     Echoes  of  Negro  Dialect.     By 
A.  C.  GORDON  and  THOMAS  NELSON  PAGE.  i2mo,  $1.00. 

AMONG  THE  CAMPS,   or   Young  People's  Stories  of 
the  War.     Illustrated.     Square  8vo,  $1.50. 

TWO     LITTLE     CONFEDERATES.       Illustrated. 
Square  8vo,  $1.50. 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
NEW  YORK 


THIS 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

OVERDUE. 


_100m-7,'39(402s) 


247976 


